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diff --git a/old/63806-0.txt b/old/63806-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 4727cc8..0000000 --- a/old/63806-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,4983 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Courtin' Christina, by J. J. Bell - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: Courtin' Christina - -Author: J. J. Bell - -Release Date: November 18, 2020 [EBook #63806] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK COURTIN' CHRISTINA *** - - - - -Produced by Carol Brown, David Garcia, Larry B. Harrison -and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at -https://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - - - - -COURTIN’ - -CHRISTINA - -J. J. BELL - - - - -COURTIN’ CHRISTINA - - - - -BY - -J. J. BELL - -AUTHOR OF - -“WEE MACGREGOR,” “JIM,” - -“OH! CHRISTINA,” ETC. - - -[Illustration: Printer’s Logo] - - -HODDER & STOUGHTON - -NEW YORK - -GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY - - - - -Copyright, 1913 - -BY GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY - - - - -TO - -J. E. HODDER WILLIAMS - -WHO SUGGESTED IT - - - - -COURTIN’ CHRISTINA - - - - -CHAPTER ONE - - -Mrs. Robinson conveyed sundry dishes from the oven, also the teapot -from the hob, to the table. - -“Come awa’,” she said briskly, seating herself. “We’ll no’ wait for -Macgreegor.” - -“Gi’e him five minutes, Lizzie,” said Mr. Robinson. - -“I’m in nae hurry,” remarked Gran’paw Purdie, who had come up from the -coast that afternoon. - -“I’m awfu’ hungry, Maw,” piped a young voice. - -“Whisht, Jimsie,” whispered daughter Jeannie. - -Said Mrs. Robinson, a little impatiently: “Come awa’, come awa’, afore -everything gets spiled. Macgreegor has nae business to be that late.” -She glanced at the clock. “He’s been the same a’ week. Haste ye, -John.” - -John opened his mouth, but catching his wife’s eye, closed it again -without speech. - -Excepting Jimsie, they came to the table rather reluctantly. - -“Ask a blessin’, fayther,” murmured Lizzie. - -“Shut yer eyes,” muttered Jeannie to her little brother, while she -restrained his eager paw from reaching a cookie. - -Mr. Purdie’s white head shook slightly as he said grace; he had passed -his five and seventieth birthday, albeit his spirit was cheerful as of -yore; in his case old age seemed to content itself with an occasional -mild reminder. - -John distributed portions of stewed finnan haddie, Lizzie poured out -the tea, while Jeannie methodically prepared a small feast for the -impatient Jimsie. Gran’paw Purdie beamed on the four, but referred -surreptitiously at brief intervals to his fat silver watch. - - * * * * * - -It is eight years since last we saw the Robinson family. Naturally we -find the greatest changes in the younger members. Jimsie from an -infant has become a schoolboy; he is taller, more scholarly, less -disposed to mischief, more subdued of nature than was Macgregor at the -same age; yet he is the frank, animated young query that his brother -was, though, to be sure, he has a sister as well as parents to puzzle -with his questions. At thirteen Jeannie is a comely, fair-haired -little maid, serious for her years, devoted to Jimsie, very proud of -Macgregor, and a blessing to her parents who, strangely enough, rarely -praise her; her chief end seems to be to serve those she loves without -making any fuss about it. - -As for John, he has grown stouter, and to his wife’s dismay a bald -spot has appeared on his crown; his laughter comes as readily as ever, -and he is just as prone to spoil his children. But by this time Lizzie -has become assured that her man’s light-hearted, careless ways do not -extend to his work, that his employers have confidence in their -foreman, and that while he is not likely to rise higher in his trade, -he is still less likely to slip back. She is proud of the three-roomed -modern flat in which she and hers dwell, and her sense for orderliness -and cleanliness has not lost its keenness. In person she is but little -altered: perhaps her features have grown a shade softer. - - * * * * * - -“Ye see, Maister Purdie,” John was explaining, “Macgreegor’s busy the -noo at a job in the west-end, an’ that’s the reason he’s late for his -tea.” - -“’Deed, ay. It’s a lang road for him to come hame,” said the old man. -“An’ is he still likin’ the pentin’ trade?” - -“Ay, ay. An’ he’s gettin’ on splendid――jist splendid!” - -“It’s time enough to be sayin’ that,” Lizzie interposed. “He’s no’ ony -furder on nor a lad o’ his age ought to be. I’m no’ sayin’ he’s daein’ -badly, fayther; but there’s nae sense in boastin’ aboot what’s jist -or’nar’?――Na, Jimsie! it’s no’ time for jeelly yet. Tak’ what Jeannie -gi’es ye, laddie.――Ay, the least said――――” - -“But his employer’s pleased wi’ him; he tell’t me as much, wife,” said -John. “An’ if ye compare Macgreegor wi’ that young scamp, Wullie -Thomson――――” - -“Oh, if ye compare a man wi’ a monkey, I daresay it’s no’ sae bad for -the man. But, really, John――――” - -“Maw, where was the man wi’ the monkey?” enquired Jimsie through bread -and butter. - -“I’ll tell ye after,” whispered Jeannie, and forthwith set her mind to -improvise a story involving a human being and his ancestor. - -“It’s easy seen,” said Gran’paw, once more consulting his watch, “that -Macgreegor’s workin’ for his wages. Surely he’ll be gettin’ overtime -the nicht. I hope his employer’s a kind man.” - -“I’ve nae doot aboot that,” Lizzie returned. “He gi’es Macgreegor -money for the car when he’s workin’ in the west-end.” - -“That’s a proper maister!” cried Mr. Purdie, while John smiled as much -as to say, “Ay! he kens Macgreegor’s value!” - -“An’ I’m thinkin’,” Lizzie continued, “that Macgreegor walks hame an’ -keeps the pennies to buy ceegarettes.” - -“What?” exclaimed the old man; “has the laddie commenced the smokin’ -a’ready?” - -“Oh, naething to speak aboot,” said John, a trifle apologetically. -“They commence earlier than they did in your day, I suppose, Maister -Purdie. No’ that I wud smoke a ceegarette if I was paid for ’t.” - -“He’s far ower young for the smokin’,” observed Lizzie. - -“_I_ can smoke,” declared Jimsie indiscreetly. Jeannie pressed his -arm. - -John guffawed, Gran’paw looked amused until Lizzie demanded: “What’s -that ye’re sayin’, Jimsie?” - -“But I’m no’ a reg’lar smoker,” mumbled Jimsie, crestfallen. - -“Ay,” said John, with a jocular wink at his father-in-law, “ye’re -feart ye singe yer whiskers, ma mannie.” - -“John,” said Lizzie, “it’s naething to joke aboot.... Jimsie, if ever -I catch ye at the smokin’, I’ll stop yer Seturday penny, an’ gi’e ye -castor ile instead. D’ye hear?” - -“Hoots!” cried Gran’paw, “that’s a terrible severe-like punishment, -Lizzie!” - -“I wud rayther tak’ ile twicet an’ get ma penny,” quoth Jimsie. - -“Hear, hear!” from John. - -Lizzie was about to speak when the bell rang. - -Jeannie slipped from her chair. “I’ll gang, Maw,” she said, and went -out. - -“It’s Macgreegor,” remarked John. “Ha’e ye kep’ his haddie hot for -him, Lizzie?” - -“What for wud I dae that?” retorted Mrs. Robinson in a tone of irony, -going over to the oven and extracting a covered dish. - -“Haw!” laughed John. “I kent ye had something there!” - -“What for did ye ask then?” - -She came back to the table as her son entered, a very perceptible -odour of his trade about him――an odour which she still secretly -disliked though nearly three years had gone since her first whiff of -it. “What kep’ ye?” she enquired, pleasantly enough. - -It is possible that Macgregor’s dutiful greeting to his grandfather -prevented his answering the question. He appeared honestly glad to see -the old man; yet compared with his own the latter’s greeting was -boisterous. He returned his father’s smile, glanced at his mother who -was engaged in filling his cup, winked at his young brother, and took -his place at the table, between the two men. - -“Ye’ll be wearied,” remarked John. - -“No’ extra,” he replied, stretching his tired legs under cover of the -table. - -“Did ye walk?” his mother asked, passing him his tea. - -“Ay.” - -“It’ll be three mile,” said John. - -Jeannie came from the fire and put a fresh slice of toast on his -plate. He nodded his thanks, and she went to her place satisfied and -assisted Jimsie who had got into difficulties with a jam sandwich that -oozed all round. - -“What way did ye no’ tak’ the car, laddie?” enquired Lizzie. - -“I’d as sune walk,” he replied, shortly. - -“It’s fine to save the siller――eh, Macgreegor?” said Mr. Purdie. - -Macgregor reddened. - -“It’s something new for Macgreegor to dae that,” Lizzie quietly -observed. - -“Tits, wumman!” muttered John. - -“Wi’ their cheap cars,” put in Mr. Purdie, “Glesga folk are like to -loss the use o’ their legs. It’s terrible to see the number o’ young -folk that winna walk if they’ve a bawbee in their pooch. I’m gled to -see Macgreegor’s no’ yin o’ them.” He patted Macgregor’s shoulder as -he might have done ten years ago, and the youth moved impatiently. - -“I’m no’ complainin’ o’ Macgreegor walkin’ when he micht tak’ the -car,” said Lizzie, “but I wud like to see him puttin’ his savin’s to -some guid purpose.” - -At these words Macgregor went a dull red, and set down his cup with a -clatter. - -“Ha’e ye burnt yer mooth?” asked John, with quick sympathy. - -“Naw,” was the ungracious reply. “It’s naebody’s business whether I -tak’ the car or tramp it. See’s the butter, Jeannie.” - -There was a short silence. An outbreak of temper on Macgregor’s part -was not of frequent occurrence. Then John turned the conversation to a -big fire that had taken place in Glasgow the previous night, and the -son finished his meal in silence. - -At the earliest possible moment Macgregor left the kitchen. For some -reason or other the desire to get away from his elders was paramount. -A few minutes later he was in the little room which belonged to him -and Jimsie. On the inside of the door was a bolt, screwed there by -himself some months ago. He shot it now. With a towel that hung on the -door he rubbed his wet face savagely. He had washed his hands in -turpentine ere leaving the scene of his work. - -He donned a clean collar. As he was fixing his Sunday tie a summons -came to the door. He went and opened it, looking cross. - -“Weel, what are ye wantin’, Jimsie?” - -“Did ye bring ma putty, Macgreegor?” - -“Och, I clean forgot.” - -Jimsie’s face fell. “Ye promised,” he complained. - -Macgregor patted the youngster’s head. “I’ll bring it the morn’s -nicht, as sure as death,” he said. “I’m sorry, Jimsie,” he added -apologetically. - -“See an’ no’ forget again,” said Jimsie, and retired. - -Macgregor closed the door and attended to his tie. Then he looked -closely at his face in the mirror hanging near the window. He was not -a particularly good-looking lad, yet his countenance suggested nothing -coarse or mean. His features as features, however, did not concern him -now. From his vest pocket he brought a knife, with a blade thinned by -stone and polished by leather. He tried its keen edge on his thumb, -shook his head, and applied the steel to his boot. Presently he began -to scrape his upper lip. It pained him, and he desisted. Not for the -first time he wished he had a real razor. - -Having put the knife away, he looked at his watch――his grandfather’s -prize for “good conduct” of eight years ago――and proceeded hastily to -brush his hair. His hair, as his mother had often remarked during his -childhood, was “awfu’ ill to lie.” For a moment or two he regarded his -garments. He would have changed them had he had time――or was it -courage? - -Finally he took from his pockets a key and two pennies. He opened a -drawer in the old chest, and placed the pennies in a disused tobacco -tin, which already contained a few coins. He knew very well the total -sum therein, but he reckoned it up once more. One shilling and -sevenpence. - -Every Saturday he handed his wages to his mother, who returned him -sixpence. His present hoard was the result of two weeks’ abstinence -from cigarettes and walking instead of taking the car. He knew the job -in the west-end would take at least another week, which meant another -sixpence, and the coming Saturday would bring a second sixpence. Total -in the near future:――two shillings and sevenpence. He smiled -uncertainly, and locked up the treasure. - -A minute later he slipped quietly into the passage and took his cap -from its peg. - -The kitchen door opened. “Whaur are ye gaun, Macgreegor?” his mother -asked. - -“Oot,” he replied briefly, and went. Going down the stairs he felt -sorry somehow. Sons often feel sorry somehow, but mothers may never -know it. - -When Lizzie, hiding her hurt, had shut the kitchen door, Mr. Purdie -said softly: “That question an’ that answer, ma dear, are as auld as -human natur’.” - - * * * * * - -As Macgregor turned out of the tenement close he encountered his -one-time chum, Willie Thomson. Macgregor might not have admitted it to -his parents, but during the last few weeks he had been finding -Willie’s company less and less desirable. - -Willie now put precisely the same question that Mrs. Robinson had put -a minute earlier. - -“I’ll maybe see ye later,” was Macgregor’s evasive response, delivered -awkwardly. He passed on. - -“Ha’e ye a ceegarette on ye?” cried Willie, taking a step after him. - -“Na.” - -“Ye’re in a queer hurry.” - -“I’ll maybe see ye later,” said Macgregor again, increasing his speed -in a curious guilty fashion. - -Willie made no attempt to overtake him. He, too, had been finding a -certain staleness in the old friendship――especially since Macgregor -had stopped his purchases of cigarettes. Willie was as often out of -employment as in it, but he did not realise that he was in danger of -becoming a mere loafer and sponge. Yet he was fond of Macgregor. - -Macgregor passed from the quiet street wherein he lived into one of -Glasgow’s highways, aglow with electric light, alive with noise out of -all proportion to its traffic. He continued to walk swiftly, his alert -eyes betraying his eagerness, for the distance of a couple of blocks. -Then into another quiet street he turned, and therein his pace became -slower and slower, until it failed altogether. Beneath a gas lamp he -questioned his watch, his expression betokening considerable anxiety. - -It was a fine October night, but chilly――not that he gave any sign of -feeling cold. For a space he remained motionless, gazing up the -street. Possibly he would have liked a cigarette just then. - -As though rousing himself, he moved abruptly and proceeded slowly to -the next lamp post, turned about and came back to his first -halting-place, where he turned about again. For a long half-hour he -continued to stroll between the two posts. Few persons passed him, and -he did not appear to notice them. Indeed, it may as well be frankly -admitted that he shamefully avoided their glances. When at last he did -stop, it was with a sort of jerk. - -From one of the closes a girl emerged and came towards him. - - - - -CHAPTER TWO - - -Macgregor’s acquaintance with Jessie Mary was almost as old as -himself; yet only within the last three months had he recognised her -existence as having aught of importance to do with his own. This -recognition had followed swift on the somewhat sudden discovery that -Jessie Mary was pretty. - -The discovery was made at a picnic, organised by a section of the -great drapery store wherein Jessie Mary found employment, Macgregor’s -presence at the outing being accounted for by the fact that in a weak -moment he had squandered a money gift from his grandparents on the -purchase of two tickets for Katie, his first love (so far as we know), -and himself. The picnic was a thorough success, but neither Macgregor -nor Katie enjoyed it. It was not so much that anything came between -them, as that something that had been between them departed――evaporated. -There was no quarrel; merely a dulness, a tendency to silence, -increasing in dreariness as the bright day wore on. And, at last, in -the railway compartment, on the way home, they sat, crushed together -by the crowd, Katie dumb with dismay, Macgregor steeped in gloom. - -Opposite them sat Jessie Mary and her escort, a young man with sleek -hair, a pointed nose, several good teeth, and a small but exquisite -black moustache. These two were gay along with the majority of the -occupants of the carriage. Perhaps in her simple sixteen-year-old -heart Katie began to realise that she was deserted indeed; perhaps -Macgregor experienced prickings of shame, not that he had ever given -or asked promises. Still, it is to be hoped that he did not remember -then any of Katie’s innocent little advances of the past. - -Affection ’twixt youth and youth is such a delicate, sensitive thing, -full of promise as the pretty egg of a bonny bird, and as easily -broken. - -Macgregor was caught by the vivacious dark eyes of Jessie Mary, snared -by her impudent red mouth, held by the charm of her face, which the -country sun had tinted with an unwonted bloom. Alas for the little -brown mouse at his side! At briefer and briefer intervals he allowed -his gloomy glance to rest on the girl opposite, while he became more -and more convinced that the young man with the exquisite moustache was -a “bletherin’ idiot.” Gradually he shifted his position to the very -edge of the seat, so as to lessen his contact with Katie. And when -Jessie Mary, without warning, presented to his attention her foot in -its cheap, stylish shoe, saying: “I wish ye wud tie ma lace, -Macgreegor,” a strange wild thrill of pride ran through his being, -though, to be sure, he went scarlet to the ears and his fingers could -scarce perform their office. There were friends of Jessie Mary who -declared that Macgregor never would have noticed her at all that day -had she not been wearing a white frock with a scarlet belt; but that -was grossly unfair to Jessie Mary. The animation and fresh coquetry of -eighteen were also hers. - -Nigh three months had gone, autumn had come, and here in a dingy -side-street the captivated youth had lingered on the bare chance of a -glimpse of the same maiden in her every-day attire, his mind tormented -by his doubts as to his reception, should she happen to appear. - - * * * * * - -And now she was approaching him. For the life of him he could neither -advance nor retire. Still, such of his wits as had remained faithful -informed him that it was “stupid-like” to do nothing at all. Whereupon -he drew out his watch and appeared to be profoundly interested in the -time. At the supreme moment of encounter his surprise was, it must be -confessed, extremely badly managed, and he touched his cap with the -utmost diffidence and without a word. - -“Hullo!” Jessie Mary remarked carelessly. “Fancy meetin’ you, as the -man said to the sassige roll!” - -It had been a mutton-pie at their last meeting, Macgregor remembered, -trying to laugh. Some comfort might have been his had he known that -this flippancy, or its variant, was her form of greeting to all the -young men then enjoying her acquaintance. Jessie Mary usually kept a -joke going for about three months, and quite successfully, too. - -“Did ye no’ expec’ to meet me?” He stumbled over the words. - -Jessie Mary laughed lightly, mockingly. “I wasna aware yer best girl -lived in this street.” - -“It――it’s no’ the first time ye’ve seen me here,” he managed to say. - -She laughed again. “Weel, that’s true. I wonder wha the girl is.” He -would have told her if he could, poor boy. “But I must hurry,” she -went on, “or the shops’ll be shut.” - -“Can I no’ gang wi’ ye?” he asked, with a great effort. - -“Oh, ye can come as far as Macrorie’s,” she answered graciously, -mentioning a provision shop. - -Young love is ever grateful for microscopic mercies, and Macgregor’s -spirit took courage as he fell into step with her. Jessie Mary was a -handsomely built young woman; her shoulder was quite on a level with -his. There were times when he would fain have been taller; times, -also, when he would fain have been older, for Jessie Mary’s years -exceeded his own by two. Nevertheless, he was now thinking of her age -without reference to his own. He was, in fact, about to speak of it, -when Jessie Mary said: - -“I’m to get to the United Ironmongers’ dance on Friday week, after a’. -When fayther was at his tea the nicht, he said I could gang.” - -She might as well have poured a jug of ice water over him. “Aw, did -he?” he murmured feebly. - -“Ye should come, Macgreegor,” she continued. “Only three-an’-six for a -ticket admittin’ lady an’ gent.” - -“Och, I’m no’ heedin’ aboot dancin’,” said Macgregor, knowing full -well that his going was out of the question. - -“It’ll be a splendid dance. They’ll keep it up till three,” she -informed him. - -With his heart in his mouth he enquired who was taking her to the -dance. - -“Oh, I ha’ena decided yet.” She gave her head a becoming little toss. -“I’ve several offers. I’ll let them quarrel in the meantime.” - -Perhaps it was some consolation to know that she had not decided on -any particular escort, and that the rivals were at war with one -another. While there is strife there is hope. - -“Ay; ye’ll ha’e plenty offers,” he managed to say steadily, and felt -rather pleased with himself. - -“I’m seriously thinking o’ wearin’ pink,” she told him as they turned -into the main street. “It’s maybe a wee thing common, but I’ve been -told it suits me.” - -Macgregor wondered who had told her, and stifling his jealousy, -observed that pink was a bonny colour.... “But――but ye wud look fine -in ony auld thing.” Truly he was beginning to get on. - -So, at least, Jessie Mary seemed to think. “Nane o’ yer flattery!” she -said with a coquettish laugh. - -“I wud like fine to see ye at the dance,” he said with a sigh. - -“Come――an’ I’ll gi’e ye a couple o’ dances――three, if I can spare -them.” Hitherto Jessie Mary had regarded Macgregor as a mere boy, and -sometimes as a bit of a nuisance, but she was the sort of young woman -who cannot have too many strings to her bow. “I can get ye a ticket,” -she added encouragingly. - -For an instant it occurred to Macgregor to ask her to let him take her -to the dance――he would find the money somehow――but the idea died in -its birth. He could not both go to the dance and do that which he had -already promised himself to do. Besides, she might laugh at him and -refuse. - -“It’s nae use speakin’ aboot the dance,” he said regretfully. Then -abruptly: “Yer birthday’s on Tuesday week, is’t no’?” - -Jessie Mary looked at him. His eyes were on the pavement. “Wha tell’t -ye that?” - -“I heard ye speakin’ aboot yer birthday to somebody at the picnic.” - -“My! ye’ve a memory!” - -“But it’s on Tuesday week――the twinty-third? I was wantin’ to be -sure.” - -“Weel, it’s the twinty-third, sure enough.” She heaved an affected -sigh. “Nineteen! I’m gettin’ auld, Macgreegor. Time I was gettin’ a -lad! Eh?” She laughed at his confusion of face. “But what for d’ye -want to ken aboot ma birthday?” she innocently enquired, becoming -graver. - -The ingenuousness of the question helped him. - -“Aw, I jist wanted to ken, Jessie Mary. Never heed aboot it. I hope -ye’ll enjoy the dance――when it comes.” This was quite a long speech -for Macgregor to make, but it might have been even longer had they not -just then arrived at the provision shop. - -“Here we are,” said she cheerfully. She had the decency to ignore the -smile of the young man behind the counter――the young man with the -sharp nose and exquisite black moustache; nor did she appear to notice -another young man on the opposite pavement who was also gazing quite -openly at her. “Here we are, an’ here we part――to meet again, I hope,” -she added, with a softer glance. - -“I’ll wait till ye’ve got yer messages,” said Macgregor, holding his -ground. - -She gave him her sweetest smile but one. “Na, Macgreegor; it’ll tak’ -me a while to get the messages, an’ I’ve ither places to gang -afterwards. Maybe I’ll see ye floatin’ aroun’ anither nicht.” - -“But I’m no’ in a hurry. I――I wish ye wud let me wait.” - -Her very sweetest smile was reserved for the most stubborn cases, and -she gave it him now. But her voice though gentle was quite firm. “If -ye want to please me, Macgreegor, ye’ll no’ wait the nicht.” - -He was conquered. She nodded kindly and entered the doorway. - -“Guidbye, Jessie Mary,” he murmured, and turned away. - -There were no other customers in the shop. Jessie Mary took a seat at -the counter. The young man, stroking his moustache, gave her a -good-evening tenderly. - -“I’m to get to the dance,” she said, solemnly. - -The young man’s hand fell to his side. “Wi’ me?” he cried, very -eagerly. - -“I ha’ena made up ma mind yet, Peter. I want a pair o’ kippers――the -biggest ye’ve got.” - - - - -CHAPTER THREE - - -The outside of the shop had been painted but recently. Above door and -window were blazoned in large gilt letters the words: - -STATIONERY AND FANCY GOODS. - -Just over the doorway was very modestly printed in white the name of -the proprietor: - -M. TOD. - -What the _M_ stood for nobody knew (or cared) unless, perhaps, the -person so designated; and it is almost conceivable that she had -forgotten, considering that for five and thirty years she had never -heard herself addressed save as Miss Tod. - -For five and thirty years M. Tod had kept her shop without assistance. -For five and thirty years she had lived in the shop and its back room, -rarely going out of doors except to church on Sunday mornings. The -grocer along the way had a standing order: practically all the -necessaries of life, as M. Tod understood them, could be supplied from -a grocer’s shop. A time had been when M. Tod saved money; but the last -ten years had witnessed a steady shrinking of custom, a dwindling in -hopes for a peaceful, comfortable old age, a shrinking and dwindling -in M. Tod herself. A day came when a friendly customer and gossip was -startled to behold M. Tod suddenly flop to the floor behind the -counter. - -A doctor, hastily summoned, brought her back to a consciousness of her -drab existence and dingy shop. She was soon ready to go on with both -as though nothing had happened. The doctor, however, warned her quite -frankly that if she did not take proper nourishment, moderate exercise -and abundance of fresh air, she would speedily find herself beyond -need of these things. - -M. Tod did not want to die, and since she never laughed at anything -she could not laugh at the doctor. To some of us life is like a cup of -bitter physic with a lump of sugar at the bottom, but no spoon to stir -it up with; life, therefore, must be sweet――sooner or later. - -On the other hand, obedience to the doctor would involve considerable -personal expenditure, not to mention the engaging of an assistant. -When M. Tod had reckoned up the remnants of her savings and estimated -her financial position generally, she incontinently groaned. -Nevertheless, she presently proceeded to prepare a two-line -advertisement for the _Evening Express_. She was still in the throes -of composition――endeavouring to say in twenty words what she thought -in two hundred――when Mr. Baldwin, traveller for a firm of fancy-goods -merchants, entered the shop. Acquainted with his kindly manner in the -past, she ventured to confide to him her present difficulties. - -Mr. Baldwin was not only sympathetic but helpful. - -“Why,” said he, “my niece Christina might suit you――in fact, I’m sure -she would. She is nearly sixteen, and only yesterday finished a full -course of book-keeping. More than that, Miss Tod, she has had experience -in the trade. Her aunt before her marriage to――er――myself――had a -little business like your own, at the coast. I had thought of getting -Christina a situation in the wholesale, but I believe it would be -better for her to be here, for a time at least. I know she is keen on -a place where she can have her own way――I mean to say, have room to -carry out her own ideas.” Mr. Baldwin halted in some confusion, but -speedily recovered. “Anyway,” he went on, “give her a trial. Let me -send her along to see you this evening.” - -M. Tod assented, possibly because she feared to hurt the traveller’s -feelings. “Nearly sixteen” and “keen on a place where she can have her -own way” did not sound precisely reassuring to the old woman who had -no experience of young folk, and who had been her own mistress for so -long. - -That evening Christina came, saw and, after a little hesitation, -conquered her doubts as to the suitability of the situation. “I’ll -manage her easy,” she said to herself while attending with the utmost -demureness to M. Tod’s recital of the duties required of her -assistant――“I’ll manage her easy.” - -Within six months she had made good her unuttered words. - - * * * * * - -It was Saturday afternoon. M. Tod was about to leave the shop for an -airing. Time takes back no wrinkles, yet M. Tod seemed younger than a -year ago. She had lost the withered, yellowed complexion of those who -worship continually in the Temple of Tannin; her movements were freer; -her voice no longer fell at the end of every sentence on a note of -hopelessness. Though she had grown some months older, she had become -years less aged. She glanced round her shop with an air of pride. - -From behind the counter Christina, with a kindly, faintly amused -smile, watched her. - -“Ay,” remarked M. Tod, “everything looks vera nice――vera nice, indeed, -dearie. I can see ye’ve done yer best to follow ma instructions.” - -It had become a habit with M. Tod to express observations of this sort -prior to going out, a habit, also, to accept all Christina’s -innovations and improvements as originally inspired by herself. Even -the painting of the shop, which, when first mooted by the girl, had -seemed about as desirable as an earthquake, had gradually become her -very own bright idea. Happily Christina had no difficulty in -tolerating such gentle injustices; as a matter of fact, she preferred -that her mistress should be managed unawares. - -“Tak’ a squint at the window when ye gang oot,” she said, pleasantly. -“Ye ha’ena seen it since it was dressed. There’s a heap o’ cheap trash -in it, but it’s trash that draws the public noo-a-days.” - -“Oh, I wudna say that, dearie,” said the old woman. “I’ve aye tried to -gi’e folk guid value.” - -“Ay! Ma aunt was like that――near ruined hersel’ tryin’ to gi’e the -public what it didna want. What the public wants is gorgeousness――an’ -it wants it cheap. Abyssinian Gold an’ papermashy leather an’ so on. -See thon photo-frames!”――Christina pointed――“the best sellin’ -photo-frames ever we had! In a week or so, they get wearit sittin’ on -the mantel-piece, an’ doon they fa’ wi’ a broken leg; in a fortnight -they look as if they had been made in the year ten B.C.! Behold thon -purses! Safer to carry yer cash in a paper poke, but the public canna -resist the real, _genuine_ silver mounts. Observe thon――――” - -“Weel, weel,” Miss Tod mildly interrupted, “it’s maybe as ye say, an’ -I canna deny that custom’s improvin’. But it’s a sad pity that folk -winna buy the best――――” - -“Oh, let the folk pity theirsel’s――when they get sense――an’ that’ll -no’ be this year. Gi’e them what they want, an’ never heed what they -need. That’s the motto for a shop-keeper. Come ower here for a minute -till I sort yer bonnet, or ye’ll be lossin’ twa o’ yer grapes. I hear -figs an’ onions is to be the favourite trimmin’ next Spring. Ye could -dae wi’ a new bonnet, Miss Tod.” - -“So I could,” the old woman wistfully admitted as she submitted her -headgear to her assistant’s deft fingers. “I couldna say when I got -this yin.” - -“Oh, I’m no’ keen on dates. But”――encouragingly――“we’ll tak’ stock -next week, an’ when we’ve struck the half-year’s balance I’ll no’ be -surprised if ye tak’ the plunge an’ burst a pound-note at the -milliner’s.” Christina administered a final pat to the ancient bonnet. -“Noo ye’re ready for the road. See an’ no’ catch cold. I’ll ha’e the -kettle at the bile against yer return at five.” - -“I’ll no’ be late,” replied M. Tod who, to tell the truth, was already -wishing it were tea-time, and moved to the door. - -“I suppose,” said Christina, “ye wudna care to call at the Reverend -Mr. McTavish’s an’ politely ask for payment o’ his account――consistin’ -chiefly o’ sermon-paper. He’s a whale for sermon-paper!” - -“Oh, dearie, dearie, I couldna dae that,” faltered M. Tod, and made -her escape. - -“If that account isna paid sune,” Christina murmured, “I’ll ha’e to -gang masel’ an’ put the fear o’ death into the man. Business is -business――even when it’s releegious.” - -She looked round the shop to discover if aught required her attention; -then being satisfied that nought could be improved, she seated herself -on the stool and prepared to do a little book-keeping. - -As she dipped her pen, however, the door of the shop was slowly -opened, the bell above it banged, and a young man――so she reckoned -him――came in. In her quick way, though she had never seen him before, -she put him down in her mind as a purchaser of a half-penny football -paper. But having recovered from the alarm of the bell and carefully -shut the door, he hesitated, surveying his surroundings. - -Christina flung back her thick plait of fair hair, slipped from the -stool, and came to attention. - -“Nice day,” she remarked in her best manner. She contrived to get away -from the vernacular in her business dealings. - -“Ay,” The young man smiled absently. - -“Nice teeth,” thought Christina. (That Macgregor’s teeth were good was -entirely due to his mother’s firmness in the matter of brushing them -during his younger days. He was inclined to be proud of them now.) - -“Just take a look round,” she said aloud. - -Macgregor acknowledged the invitation with a nod. - -“Was it anything special you wanted to see?” she enquired. - -Macgregor regarded her for a moment. “I had a look at yer window,” he -said, his eyes wandering once more, “but I seen naething dearer nor a -shillin’.” - -“Oh!” exclaimed Christina. Then recovering her dignity――“The window is -merely a popular display. We have plenty of more expensive goods -within.” She felt pleased at having said “within” instead of “inside.” - -At the word “expensive” Macgregor shrank. “Aboot half-a-croon?” he -said diffidently, taking a step towards the door. - -“Half-a-croon _and_ upwards,” said Christina very distinctly. As a -matter of fact, the shop contained few articles priced as high as two -shillings, the neighbourhood not being noted for its affluence; but -one of Christina’s mottoes was “First catch your customer and then -rook him.” “Oh, yes,” she added pleasantly, “our goods at half-a-crown -are abundant.” - -For a moment Macgregor doubted she was laughing at him, but a veiled -glance at her earnest face reassured him――nay, encouraged him. He had -never bought a present for a lady before, and felt his position -keenly. Indeed, he had left his home district to make the purchase in -order that he might do so unrecognised. - -So with a shy, appealing smile he said: - -“It’s for a present.” - -“A present. Certainly!” she replied, lapsing a trifle in the -excitement of the moment. “Male or female?” - -Macgregor gave her an honest stare. - -“Is it for a lady or gent?” she enquired, less abashed by the stare -than annoyed with herself for having used the wrong phrase. - -“Lady,” said Macgregor, with an attempt at boldness, and felt himself -getting hot. - -“Will you kindly step this way?” came the polite invitation. - -Macgregor proceeded to the counter and bumped his knee against the -chair that stood there. - -“Useful or ornamental?” - -“I――I dinna ken,” he answered between his teeth. - -“I’ll break that chair’s neck for it some day!” cried Christina, her -natural sympathy for suffering getting the better of her commercial -instincts. Then she coughed in her best style. “Do you think the young -lady would like something to wear?” - -“I dinna ken, I’m sure.” Macgregor pushed back his cap and scratched -his head. “Let’s see what ye’ve got for wearin’ an’――an’ no’ for -wearin’.” - -Christina, too, nearly scratched her head. She was striving to think -where she could lay hands on articles for which she could reasonably -charge half-a-crown. - -Without very noticeable delay she turned to a drawer, and presently -displayed a small green oblong box. She opened it. - -“This is a nice fountain-pen,” she explained. “Its price has been -reduced――――” - -“Aw, I’m no’ heedin’ aboot reduced things, thank ye a’ the same.” - -“I’ll make it two shillings to you,” Christina said persuasively. -“That’s a very drastic reduction.” Which was perfectly true. On the -other hand, the pen was an old model which she had long despaired of -selling. “Nothing could be more suitable for a young lady,” she added, -exhibiting the nib. “Real gold.” - -But Macgregor shook his head. - -With apparent cheerfulness she laid the pen aside. “It’s for a _young_ -lady, I think you said?” - -“Ay, it’s for a young lady, but she’s no’ that young either. Aboot ma -ain age, maybe.” - -Christina nearly said “about twelve, I suppose,” but refrained. She -was learning to subdue her tendency to chaff. “I perceive,” she said -gravely. “Is she fond of needlework?” - -“I couldna say. She’s gettin’ a pink dress, but I think her mither’s -sewin’ it for her.” - -“A pink dress!” muttered Christina, forgetting herself. “Oh, -Christopher Columbus!” She turned away sharply. - -“Eh?” - -“She’ll be a brunette?” said Christina calmly, though her cheeks were -flushed. - -“I couldna say,” said Macgregor again. - -Christina brought forward a tray of glittering things. “These combs -are much worn at present,” she informed him. “Observe the jewels.” - -“They’ll no’ be real,” said Macgregor doubtfully. - -“Well――a――no. Not exactly _real_. But everybody weers――wears imitation -jewellery nowadays. The west-end’s full of it――chock-a-block, in -fact.” She held up a pair of combs of almost blinding beauty. -“Chaste――ninepence each.” - -“Ay,” sighed Macgregor, “but I’m no’ sure――――” - -“Silver belt――quite the rage――one shilling.” - -Macgregor remembered the scarlet belt at the picnic. He had a vague -vision of a gift of his in its place. He held out his hand for the -glittering object. - -“You don’t happen to know the size of the lady’s waist?” said -Christina in a most discreet tone of voice. - -“I couldna say.” He laid down the belt, but kept looking at it. - -“Excuse me,” she said softly, lifting the belt and fastening it round -her waist. She was wearing a navy skirt and a scarlet flannel shirt, -with a white collar and black tie. “My waist is just about medium.” -She proceeded to put the combs in her hair. “Of course they would look -better on a brunette.” She permitted herself the faintest of smiles. -“But you can see how they look when they’re being worn.” - -Was there a hint of mockery in the bright grey-blue eyes? Macgregor -did not observe it; nor was he shocked by the crudity and gaudiness of -the ornaments in broad daylight. But perhaps the general effect was -not so shocking. Christina, having previously experimented with the -ornaments, had a pretty good idea of how they appeared upon her. It -would be difficult to describe precisely what Macgregor thought just -then, but it is to be feared that he made the sudden and unexpected -discovery that Jessie Mary was not the only pretty girl in the world. - -“I’ll tak’ them,” he said uneasily, and put his hand in his pocket. - -“Thank you,” said Christina. “Will that be all to-day?” - -“Ay; that’ll be a’.” He had purposed spending the odd penny of his -fund on a birthday card, but for some undefinable reason let the coin -fall back into his pocket. - -Christina proceeded to make a neat parcel. “You’re a stranger here,” -she remarked pleasantly. - -“Ay. But I dinna live far awa’.” Now that the ordeal was over, he was -feeling more at ease. “Ye’ve a nice shop, miss.” - -“Do you think so? I’m very glad you got something to suit you in it. -Thank you! Half-a-crown――two-and-six exactly. _Good_ afternoon!” - -It may be that Macgregor would have stopped to make a remark or two on -his own account, but just then an elderly woman entered the shop. - -“Guidbye, Miss,” he murmured, touching his cap, and departed with his -purchase. - -Christina dropped the silver into the till. To herself she said: “I -doobt he’s no’ as green as he’s cabbage-lookin’.” Aloud: “Nice day, -Mrs. Dunn. Is your little grandson quite well again?” - - - - -CHAPTER FOUR - - -For some weeks Macgregor had nourished an idea of making the birthday -presentation with his own hands. In fancy he had beheld his own -gallant proffering of the gifts, and Jessie Mary’s shy acceptance of -the same. Why he should have foreseen himself bold and Jessie Mary -bashful is a question that may be left to those who have the profound -insight necessary to diagnose the delicate workings of a youthful and -lovelorn imagination. At the same time he had harboured many hopeful -fears and fearful hopes, but to divulge these in detail would be -sacrilege. - -On the day following the purchase of the gifts, however, his original -plan, so simple and straightforward, would seem to have lost something -of its attractiveness. Perhaps he was suddenly assailed by the -cowardice of modesty; possibly he argued, in effect, that the offering -would gain in importance by impersonal delivery. At all events, he -endeavoured, on the way to church, to borrow from Willie Thomson the -sum of threepence――the charge for delivery demanded by a heartless -post-office. Unfortunately Willie’s finances just then were in a most -miserable state, so much so that on this very morning he had been -compelled to threaten his aunt, with whom and on whom he lived, with -the awful vow never to enter a church again unless she supplied him -with twopence on the spot. (This, of course, in addition to the -customary penny for “the plate.”) - -He jingled the coins in his pocket while he confided to Macgregor his -tale of a hard world, and continued to do so while he waited for the -sympathy which past experience of his friend led him to expect. - -It was therefore something of a shock to Willie when Macgregor, -privately fondling the penny which he had not spent on a birthday -card, replied: “I could manage wi’ the tuppence, Wullie. An’ I’ll pay -ye back on Seturday, sure.” - -“Eh?” Willie stopped jingling and clutched his coins tightly. - -Macgregor repeated his words hopefully. - -“Aw, but I canna len’ ye the tuppence,” said Willie, almost -resentfully; adding, “But I’ll gi’e ye a ceegarette or twa when I buy -some.” - -“I’m no’ wantin’ yer ceegarettes,” Macgregor returned, his eyes on the -pavement. - -Willie shot at him a curious glance. “What for d’ye want the tuppence? -Ha’e ye been bettin’ on horses?” - -For a moment Macgregor was tempted to plead guilty of that or any -other crime on the chance of gaining the other’s sympathies and pence. -Instead, however, he answered with caution: “I’ll maybe tell ye, if -ye’ll len’ me the tuppence.” - -Willie laughed. “I’m no’ sae green. Ye best get yer fayther to gi’e ye -the money.” - -“Clay up!” snapped Macgregor, and remained silent for the rest of the -journey. - -Had the money been required for any other object in the world, -Macgregor would probably have gone straightway to his father and -frankly asked for it. But the limits of confidence between son and -parent are reached when the subject is a girl. Nevertheless, it was to -the boy’s credit that he never dreamed of attempting to obtain his -father’s help under false pretences. - -That night he came to the dismal decision to deliver the package -himself at Jessie Mary’s door, at an hour when Jessie Mary would be -certain to be out. There was nothing else for it, as far as he could -see just then. - -The following morning’s light found him at his work――no longer, alas! -in the far west-end with its windfall of pennies for the car, but in -the heart of the city. The man under whom he worked found him so slow -and stupid that he threatened to report him to his employer. -Altogether it was a dreary day, and Macgregor, who usually paid enough -attention to his duties to escape the burden of time, was more than -glad when the last working hour had dragged to its close. - -He went home by an unaccustomed though not entirely unfamiliar route. -It led him past the shop wherein he had made the birthday purchases on -Saturday afternoon. The window was more brightly illuminated than the -majority of its neighbours; the garish contents were even more -attractive than in daylight. Macgregor found himself regarding them -with a half-hearted interest. Presently he noticed that one of the -sliding glass panels at the back of the window was open a few inches. -This aperture permitted him to see the following: A hand writing a -letter on a sloping desk, a long plait of fair hair over a scarlet -shoulder, and a youthful profile with an expression very much in -earnest yet cheerful withal. - -Macgregor could not help watching the writer, and he continued to do -so for several minutes with increasingly lively interest. He was even -wondering to whom the letter might be written, when the writer, having -dipped her pen too deeply, made a horrid, big blot. She frowned and -for an instant put out her tongue. Then, having regarded the blot for -a space with a thoughtful gaze, she seized the pen and with a few deft -touches transformed the blot into the semblance of a black beetle. -Whereupon she smiled with such transparent delight that Macgregor -smiled also. - -“What are ye grinnin’ at?” said a voice at his elbow. - -He turned to discover Willie Thomson. At no time in the whole course -of their friendship had he felt a keener desire to hit Willie on his -impudent nose. “Naething,” he muttered shortly. “Are ye gaun hame?” - -“Ay,” said Willie, noting the other’s discomposure, but not referring -to it directly. “This isna yer usual road hame.” - -“Depends whaur I’m comin’ frae,” returned Macgregor, quickening his -pace. “Ha’e ye got a job yet, Wullie?” he enquired more graciously. - -“I tried yin the day, but it’s no’ gaun to suit me. But I’ve earned -ninepence. I can len’ ye thon thruppence, if ye like.” - -“Aw, I’m no’ needin’ it noo.” - -“Weel, ha’e a ceegarette.” Willie produced a yellow packet. - -“Na, I’m no’ smokin’, Wullie.” - -“What’s wrang wi’ ye?” - -“Naething.... What sort of job was ye tryin’?” - -Willie told him, and thereafter proceeded to recount as many -grievances as there had been hours in his working day. Macgregor -encouraged him to enter into all sorts of detail, so that home was -reached without reference to the shop window which had caused him -amusement. - -“So long,” said Willie, lighting a fresh cigarette. “Maybe see ye -later.” - -“Ah, it’s likely,” Macgregor replied, and turned into the close, glad -to escape. - -“Haud on!” cried Willie. - -“What?” Macgregor halted with reluctance. - -Willie sniggered. “I seen ye wi’ Jessie Mary the ither nicht.” - -“Did ye?” retorted Macgregor feebly. - -“Ay; an’ if I was you, I wud let girls alane. They’re nae fun, an’ -they’re awfu’ expensive.” - -With which sage advice Willie walked off. - -Macgregor made up his mind not to leave the house that evening, yet -eight o’clock found him at the foot of the street wherein Jessie Mary -lived. But he did not go up the street, and at the end of five minutes -he strolled the way he had taken two hours earlier. As he approached a -certain shop the light in its window went out. He marched home -quickly, looking neither right nor left. - - * * * * * - -On the following evening he hired a small boy for the sum of one -halfpenny to deliver the package to Jessie Mary at her abode, and -straightway returned to the parental fireside, where he blushed at the -welcome accorded him. - -That night, however, fate willed it that John Robinson should run out -of tobacco. Macgregor, who had been extremely restless, expressed -himself ready to step down to the tobacco shop in the main street. - -Here it must be mentioned that the gifts had reached Jessie Mary at -precisely the right moment. They had raised her spirits from the -depths of despair to at least the lower heights of hope. Only an hour -before their arrival she had learned how the young man with the -exquisite moustache had treacherously invited another young lady to -accompany him to the Ironmongers’ dance; and although to the ordinary -mind this may appear to have been the simple result of a lack of -superhuman patience on the young man’s part, Jessie Mary could -perceive in it nothing but the uttermost perfidy. So that until the -arrival of Macgregor’s present――“to J. M. from M. with best wishes” -(an “l” had been scraped out where the second “w” now stood)――she had -felt like tearing the pink frock to tatters and preparing for the -tomb. - - * * * * * - -They met near the tobacconist’s――on Macgregor’s home side, by the -way――and he could not have looked more guilty had he sent her an -infernal machine. - -“It was awful kind o’ ye,” she said sweetly; “jist _awful_ kind.” - -“Aw, it was naething,” he stammered. - -“They’re jist lovely, an’ that fashionable,” she went on, and -gradually led the conversation to the subject of the United -Ironmongers’ dance. - -“Ye should come,” she said, “an’ see hoo nice I look wi’ them on. The -belt’ll be lovely wi’ ma pink frock. An’ the combs was surely made for -black hair like mines. Of course I tried them on the minute I got -them.” - -“Did ye?” murmured Macgregor. Where was all the feverish joy, the soft -rapture anticipated three nights ago? “Did ye?”――that was all he said. - -She made allowance for his youth and the bashfulness she had so often -experienced. “Macgreegor,” she whispered, slipping her hand through -his arm, in the darkness of the street leading to her home, -“Macgreegor, I believe I wud suner dance wi’ you than onybody else.” - -Macgregor seemed to have nothing to say. The touch of her hand was -pleasant, and yet he was uneasy. - -“Macgreegor,” she said presently, a little breathlessly, “I’m no’ -heedin’ aboot ony o’ the chaps that wants to tak’ me to the dance. If -ye had a ticket――――” She paused. They had halted in the close-mouth, -as it is locally termed. “I’m sayin’, Macgreegor, if ye had a -ticket――――” She paused again. - -The boy felt foolish and wretched. “But I canna gang to the dance, -Jessie Mary,” he managed to say. - -She leaned closer to him. “It’ll be a splendid dance――at least”――she -looked at him boldly――“it wud be splendid if you and me was gaun -thegether.” - -In his wildest of wild dreams he may have thought of kissing this -girl. He might have done it now――quite easily. - -But he didn’t――he couldn’t. - -“Na; I canna gang,” he said. “An’――an’ ma fayther’ll be waitin’ for -his tobacco. Guidnicht.” He glanced at her with a miserable smile, and -departed――bolted. - -Poor Jessie Mary with her little natural vanities! - -Poor Macgregor! He went home hot and ashamed――he could not have told -why. He did not grudge the gifts, yet vaguely wished he had not given -them. - -And he dreamed that night of, among other queer things, a shop window, -a plait of fair hair on a scarlet shoulder, and a black beetle. - - - - -CHAPTER FIVE - - -“Mercy, laddie!” exclaimed Mrs. Robinson, as her son entered the -kitchen, a little late for tea. “What ha’e ye been daein’ to yer -face?” - -The colour induced by the question seemed almost to extinguish the -hectic spot at Macgregor’s left cheek-bone. - -“Washin’ it,” he answered shortly, taking his accustomed chair. - -“But it’s cut.” - -“Tits, Lizzie!” muttered Mr. Robinson. “Are ye for toast, Macgreegor?” - -“He’s been shavin’ his whiskers,” said Jimsie. “Did ye no’ ken -Macgreegor’s gettin’ whiskers, Maw?” he went on in spite of a warning -pressure from sister Jeannie. “Paw, what way dae folk get whiskers?” - -“Dear knows,” returned his father briefly. “Lizzie, can ye no’ gi’e -Macgreegor a cup o’ tea?” - -Lizzie lifted the cosy from the brown teapot. “Where did ye get the -razor, Macgreegor?” - -“He hasna got a razor, Maw,” said Jimsie. “He does it wi’ a wee -knife.” - -“Shurrup!” Macgreegor growled, whereupon Jimsie choked and his eyes -filled with tears. - -“Macgreegor,” said his mother, “that’s no’ the way to speak to yer wee -brither.” - -“Macgreegor,” said his sister, “I’ll mak’ ye a bit o’ hot toast, if ye -like.” - -“Ay, Jeannie,” said John quickly, “mak’ him a bit o’ hot toast, an’ -I’ll look after Jimsie.” He turned the conversation to the subject of -a great vessel that had been launched into the Clyde that morning. - -Sullenly Macgregor took the cup from his mother’s hand and forthwith -devoted his attention to his meal. Seldom had resentment taken such -possession of his soul. Another word from his mother or Jimsie, and he -would have retorted violently and flung out of the room. The mild -intervention of his sister and father had saved a scene. Though his -face cooled, his heart remained hot; though hungry, he ate little, -including the freshly made toast, which he accepted with a -gracelessness that probably shamed him even more than it hurt Jeannie. -Poor sensitive, sulky youth!――a hedge-hog with its skin turned -outside-in could not suffer more. - -For the first time in the course of his married life John Robinson -really doubted Lizzie’s discretion. It was with much diffidence, -however, that he referred to the matter after Macgregor had gone out, -and while Jeannie was superintending Jimsie’s going to bed. - -“Lizzie,” he began, eyeing his cold pipe, “did ye happen to notice -that Macgreegor was a wee thing offended the nicht?” - -Mrs. Robinson did not halt in her business of polishing a bread plate. -“Macgreegor’s gettin’ ower easy offended,” she said, carelessly -enough. - -John struck a match and held it without application to his pipe until -the flame scorched his hardened fingers. “Speakin’ frae experience,” -he said slowly, “there’s twa things that a young man tak’s vera -serious-like. The first――――” - -“Wha’s the young man?” - -“Macgreegor.... Aw, Lizzie!” - -“Macgreegor’s a laddie.” - -“He’s a young man――an’ fine ye ken it, wife!” - -Lizzie put down the plate and took up another. “An’ what does he tak’ -serious-like?” she enquired, coolly. - -“Firstly,” said John, with a great effort, and stuck. - -“Ye’ll be preachin’ a sermon directly,” said she. “Can ye no’ licht -yer pipe an’ speak nateral?” - -“Hoo can I speak nateral when I ken ye’re makin’ a mock o’ me?” - -“Havers, man!” she said, becoming good-humoured lest he should lose -his temper; “licht yer pipe. I’m listenin’.” - -John lit his pipe in exceedingly methodical fashion. “Weel, Lizzie,” -he began at last, “I jist wanted to say that when a young man’s -gettin’ hair on his face, ye――ye shouldna notice it.” - -“I didna notice it.” - -“Weel, ye shouldna refer to it.” - -“It was the cut I referred to.” - -John sucked at his pipe and scratched his head. “That’s true,” he -admitted. “Still, if yer sister had a wudden leg, ye wudna refer to -the noise on the stair. It wasna like ye, Lizzie, to hurt Macgreegor’s -feelin’s.” - -Mrs. Robinson put down the plate with an unusual clatter. Hurt -Macgreegor’s feelings!――She?――The idea! “Are ye feenished?” she -snapped. - -John nerved himself. “There’s anither thing that it’s best no’ to -refer to――anither thing that a young man tak’s vera serious-like. When -a young man begins to tak’ an interest in the lassies――――” - -“Oh, man, can ye no stop haverin’?” she cried. “Ha’e ye forgot the -laddie’s age?” - -“It’s the shavin’ age, an’ that means――――” - -“Ma brither Rubbert was nineteen afore he put a razor to his face.” - -“Yer brither Rubbert was never what I wud ca’ a female fancier. Of -course that wasna his fau’t; he was jist as the Lord made him, and -he’s turned oot a vera successful man, an’ for a’ we ken his wife -Sarah’s maybe better nor she’s bonny. But yer son Macgreegor――――” - -“Macgreegor wud never look at the lassies. He’s ower shy.” - -“Whiles it’s the kind that doesna look that leaps the furdest. But -there’s waur things in the world nor razors and lassies,” said John, -with a feeble laugh, “an’ I jist wanted to warn ye no’ to ask -questions, even though ye should see Macgreegor weerin’ his Sunday tie -every nicht in the week! I hope ye’re no’ offended, Lizzie.” - -But it is to be feared that Lizzie was offended just then. She had not -been the better half for eighteen years without knowing it; she had -grown to expect her easy-going husband’s cheerful acquiescence in -practically all she did, and to regard her acceptance of his most mild -remonstrances as a sort of favour. And now he was actually giving her -advice concerning her treatment of her firstborn! It was too much for -her pride. - -She set her mouth in a hard line, threw up her head, and proceeded -with her polishing. - -John waited for a couple of minutes, then sighed and took up his -evening paper. - - * * * * * - -Meanwhile Macgregor was having his troubles. He contrived to dodge -Willie Thomson, who nowadays seemed always to be where he was not -wanted, but the operation involved a _detour_ of nearly a quarter of a -mile, in the course of which he was held up by another youth of his -acquaintance. Ten minutes were wasted in listening with ill-concealed -impatience to fatuous observations on the recent play of certain -professional footballers, and then he continued his journey only to -fall, metaphorically speaking, into the arms of Jessie Mary emerging -from a shop. - -“Hullo, Mac! I thought ye was deid!” was her blithe greeting, the -“sausage roll” phrase having at long last served its day. “Ye’re in a -hurry,” she added, “but so am I, so ye can walk back to the corner wi’ -me.” - -Macgregor mumbled something to the effect that he was in no special -hurry, and, possibly in order to give a touch of truth to his -falsehood, turned and accompanied her. - -“Ye’ve no’ been gi’ein’ the girls a treat lately,” she remarked. “I -ha’ena noticed ye floatin’ aroun’. Ha’e ye been keepin’ the hoose at -nicht?” - -“Whiles,” he replied, and enquired with some haste, “Hoo did ye enjoy -the dance last week, Jessie?” - -“Oh, dinna mention it!” she cried, with a toss of her head. “I didna -gang to it.” - -“Ye didna gang to the dance!” - -“If I had went, it wud ha’e meant bloodshed,” she impressively -informed him. “Ye see, there was twa chaps implorin’ me to gang wi’ -them, an’ they got that fierce aboot it that I seen it wudna ha’e been -safe to gang wi’ either. A riot in a ballroom is no’ a nice thing. An’ -if I had went wi’ a third party, it wud ha’e been as much as _his_ -life was worth. So I jist bided at hame.” - -Macgregor began, but was not allowed to complete, a sympathetic -remark. - -“Oh, I was glad I didna gang. The dance turned oot to be a second-rate -affair entirely――no’ half-a-dizzen shirt fronts in the comp’ny. An’ I -believe there wasna three o’ the men could dance for nuts, an’ the -refreshments was rotten.” - -They had now reached the appointed corner. - -“Jist as weel ye didna gang, then,” absently said Macgregor, halting. - -“Come up to the close,” said Jessie Mary. “I’ve something to show ye. -Ay; it was jist as weel, as ye say. But there’s a champion dance -comin’ off on the nineteenth o’ November――the young men o’ the hosiery -department are gettin’ it up――naething second-rate aboot _it_. Ye -should come to it, Macgreegor.” She touched his arm――unintentionally -perhaps. “Plenty o’ pretty girls――though I wudna guarantee their -dancin’. I’ve no’ decided yet wha I’ll gang wi’.” She paused. -Macgregor did not speak. “Ye see, I’m parteec’lar wha I dance wi’,” -she went on softly, “an’ I expec’ you’re the same. Some girls are like -bags o’ flour an’ ithers are like telegraph poles, but there’ll be few -o’ that sort at the hosiery dance. An’ onyway”――she laughed――“ye could -aye fa’ back on _this_ girl――eh?” - -“I dinna think ye wud be that hard up for a partner,” said Macgregor, -suddenly stimulated by a flash of her eyes in the lamplight. “But I’m -no’ awfu’ keen on the dancin’.” - -“Ye danced fine when ye was a wee laddie. I mind when ye danced the -Highland Fling in the kitchen, on Hogmanay. That was the nicht I had -to kiss ye to get ye oot o’ the ring. Ye was ower shy to kiss me. An’ -you an’ Wullie Thomson started the fightin’, because he laughed. D’ye -mind?” - -“That’s an auld story,” he said, with embarrassment. - -“I suppose it is,” she admitted reluctantly. Then cheerfully: “Weel, -here we are! But wait till I let ye see something.” She halted at the -mouth of the close and began to unbutton her jacket. - -“Ye’ve never seen the belt since ye gi’ed it to me, Macgreegor. I weer -it whiles in the evenin’. There ye are! It looks fine, does it no’? -Maybe a wee thing wide. I could dae wi’ it an inch or twa tighter. -Feel.” - -She took his hand and slid his fingers between the metal and the white -cotton blouse. Jessie Mary had at least one quite admirable -characteristic: she doted on white garments and took pride in their -spotlessness. A very elemental sense for the beautiful, yet who dare -despise it? In these grimy days purity of any kind is great gain. - -This girl’s hunger for the homage and admiration of the other sex was -not so much abnormal as unrestrained. Her apparent lack of modesty was -in reality a superabundance of simplicity――witness her shallow -artifices and transparent little dishonesties which deceived few save -herself and the callowest of youths. Men “took their fun off her.” And -even Macgregor was not to be entrapped now. There is nothing so dead -as the fallen fancy of a boy. Moreover, Macgregor was still at the -stage when a girl’s face is her whole fortune, when the trimmest waist -and the prettiest curves are no assets whatsoever. - -For a moment or two he fingered the belt, awkwardly, to be sure, but -with as much emotion as though it were a dog’s collar. - -“Ay,” he said, “ye’re ower jimp for it.” And put his hand in his -pocket. - -Then, indeed, it was forced on Jessie Mary that somehow her charms had -failed to hold her youngest admirer. The knowledge rankled. Yet she -carried it off fairly well. - -“Ye’re no’ the first to tell me I’ve an extra sma’ waist,” she said, -with a toss of her head. Then, as if struck by a remembrance of some -duty or engagement: “But I’ve nae mair time to stan’ gassin’ wi’ you. -So long!” She ran briskly up the stone stair, humming a popular tune. - -“So long,” returned Macgregor, and resumed his interrupted journey, -rather pleased than otherwise with himself. He realised, though not in -so many words, that he had conducted himself in more manly fashion -than ever before. It did not for a moment occur to him that he had -left a big “Why?” behind him, not only in the mind of Jessie Mary, but -in Willie Thomson’s also. - - * * * * * - -His pilgrimage ended at the illuminated window of M. Tod’s stationery -and fancy goods shop. Jingling the few coppers in his pockets, he -appeared to be deliberating a weighty problem of extensive purchases, -while, as a matter of fact, he inwardly debated the most profitable -ways of wasting a penny. While he would now gladly have given all he -possessed――to wit, ninepence――to win a smile from the girl with the -scarlet blouse and the ripe-corn-yellow pigtail, he was not prepared -to squander more than he could help for the benefit of her employer. -The opaque panels at the back of the window were closed, the door of -the shop was composed chiefly of ground glass; wherefore he had no -inkling as to which person he was likely to encounter at the receipt -of custom. He was hoping and waiting for a customer to enter the shop, -so that he might gain a glimpse of the interior with the opening of -the door, when suddenly the lights in the window were lowered. -Evidently it was near to closing time. - -Hastily deciding to “burst” the sum of one penny on the purchase of a -pencil――an article for which he had more respect than use――he entered -the doorway and turned the handle. He had forgotten the spring bell. -When he pushed the door inwards, it “struck one”――right from the -shoulder, so to speak. Who will assert that the ordinary healthy youth -has no nerves? ’Tis a hoggishly healthy youth who does not bustle with -them. The sturdy Macgregor wavered on the threshold; and as he wavered -he heard behind him a badly stifled guffaw. - -Next moment a hearty push in the small of the back propelled him into -the shop. With a hot countenance he pulled up, guessing who had pushed -him, and strove to look as if this were his usual mode of entering a -place of business. In his confusion he missed the quick glance of the -girl seated at the desk on the window-end of the counter. Her head was -bent low over her writing. He noticed, however, that she was wearing a -white blouse――which did not remind him of Jessie Mary――and that she -had a scarlet bow at her neck. - -“Yes, sir?” A mouse-like human being slipped from the back of the shop -to the middle point of the counter. “Yes, sir?” it repeated, with an -accent on the query. The girl at the desk took no notice. - -Macgregor approached. “I was wantin’ a pencil,” he said in the tone of -one requesting a pint of prussic acid. - -“A pencil!” exclaimed the mouse-like human being, as though she had a -dim recollection of hearing of such a thing long, long ago. “A -pencil――oh, certainly,” she added, more hopefully. - -“Penny or ha’penny,” murmured the girl at the desk. - -“Penny or ha’penny?” demanded the mouse-like human being, almost -pertly. - -Men didn’t expect change out of a penny! “A penny yin,” said Macgregor -with an attempt at indifference. He tried to look at the girl, but -could not get his eyes higher than her elbow. - -“A penny pencil!” The mouse-like human being assumed an expression -suitable to a person who has just discovered the precise situation of -the North Pole, but not the Pole itself. - -“Top drawer on your left, Miss Tod,” whispered the girl at the desk. - -“Quite so, Christina,” Miss Tod replied with dignity. There were times -when she might have been accused of copying her assistant’s manners. -She opened the drawer, which was a deep one, peered into it, groped, -and brought forth three bundles of pencils. With sudden mildness she -enquired of the girl: “These?... Those?” - -“No; them!” said Christina, forgetting her grammar and grabbing the -third bundle. “Wait a minute.” She slipped lightly from her stool and -gently edged M. Tod from the position at the counter which had been -familiar to the latter for five-and-thirty years. “This,” she said to -Macgregor, laying the bundle in front of him, “is a special line. One -dozen――price threepence.” She looked over his head in a manner -suggesting that it was quite immaterial to her whether he purchased -the dozen or faded away on the spot. - -But he had his dignity too. Producing three pennies from two pockets, -he laid them on the counter, took up the bundle of pencils, said -“Thank ye” to nobody in particular, and marched out. Nor did he forget -to close the door behind him. - -The stationer and her assistant regarded each other for several -seconds. - -“Dae ye think,” said M. Tod slowly, “that that young man is a -newspaper reporter?” - -“No,” replied Christina, with a sniff or two of her straight little -nose. - -“Or a pictur’ artist?” said M. Tod, conveying the two bundles to the -wrong drawer. - -Christina, without a word, recovered them and put them into their -proper places. She mounted her stool and whipped up a pen. - -M. Tod sighed. “I never used to keep pencils at that price. They canna -be vera guid.” - -“They’re rotten.” - -“Oh, lassie!” - -“Sell――or gang bankrupt,” said Christina with enough bitter cynicism -for twenty-one. “There’s a penny profit on the bundle. _Ex_――cuse me.” -She dipped her pen. - - * * * * * - -As Macgregor was nearing his home, a prey to misery and wroth, a -grinning face popped from a close-mouth. - -“Haw! haw! Macgreegor! So ye’re courtin’, are ye?” - -As the clock incontinently strikes when the hour has come, so struck -Macgregor. And he struck so hard, that it was afterwards necessary he -should see Willie Thomson to the latter’s door. Alone again, he cast -the bundle of pencils into a dark entry and made his way home. - -His father opened the door, smiling a welcome. “Weel, Macgreegor――――” - -“I’m wearied,” said the boy, and passed straightway to his room and -bolted the door. Jimsie was sleeping like a log, and was, as usual, -occupying most of the bed. - -Macgregor stood at the old chest of drawers that served as -dressing-table, his elbows planted thereon, his face in his hands. He -_was_ wearied. - -But under his tired eyes lay a small oblong package with a covering of -newspaper. The neatness of it made him think of his mother; she had a -way of making next to nothing look something important in a parcel. - -Presently, wondering a little, he undid the paper. - -It contained one of his father’s old razors. - -Five minutes later he was enjoying a _real_ shave. The luxury was only -exceeded by the importance he felt! And only two cuts that bled worth -mentioning.... - -How one’s life may be changed in two short hours! - -But Macgregor was still without regret for having flung the pencils -into the dark entry. - - - - -CHAPTER SIX - - -Circumstance rather than circumspection was accountable for the fact -that Macgregor followed the elusive, winding trail of love alone. The -tender adventures of our ’teens usually consist in encounters between -two boys and two girls; two friends who tacitly admit that they want -to meet the girls; two friends who pretend that they do not want to -see the boys at any distance; and to sum up, two pairs of young human -beings with but a single thought――themselves. Also it may happen, now -and then, that for lack of likelier company Prince Charming goes -hunting with Master Fathead, while Princess Lilian Rose lays the scent -along with Miss Gooseberry, which but adds plausibility to the -assumption that neither sex has the courage of its inclinations. For -to be honest, there is no cowardice like that of lad’s love; no -hypocrisy like that of lass’s. But, surely, you remember! And if so it -happened that in your own day you, perforce, fared solitary to the -chase, you will sympathise all the more with the unheroic hero of this -slight record. - -In this respect Macgregor was not fortunate in his male friends. The -oldest thereof, Willie Thomson, openly contemned the female sex, not -omitting his aunt; the others confined their gallantries to the breezy -pastimes of pushing girls off the sidewalk, bawling pleasantries after -them, and guffawing largely at their own wit or the feminine -_repartee_. Their finer instincts were doubtless still dormant. The -only mortals worthy of respect were sundry more or less prominent -personages whose feet or fists were their fortunes. In these days the -adoration of the active by the inert is, one hopes, at its zenith of -inflation. Again, to put it now in metaphor, Macgregor’s friends could -do with a brass band in scarlet uniform all the time, but they had no -use for a secret orchestra of muted strings. All of which was -perfectly natural――just as natural as Macgregor’s inexplicable -preference for the secret orchestra. Spring comes early or late; the -calendar neither foretells nor records its coming. A lad and a -lass――how and when and why the one first realises that the other is -more than a mere human being are questions without answers. Well, it -is a mercy that the world still holds something that cannot be -explained away. - -In one sense this boy was no more refined than his neighbours; in -another they were coarser than he. Remains the fact that he followed -the trail alone――or thought he did. - -Willie Thomson, for one, was interested. He had been interested to the -extent of grinning in Macgregor’s early tenderness for little Katie, -and to the extent of sniggering in his friend’s bashful pursuit of -Jessie Mary. But now the interest was that of the boy who discovers a -nest just beyond his hand and wonders what sort of eggs he will get -if, somehow, he can reach it. On the whole, Willie resented his -swollen nose and cut lip less than the recent ill-disguised attempts -to avoid his company. The latter rankled. Truth to tell, without -Macgregor he was rather a lonely creature, a kind of derelict. No one -really wanted him. He was not without acquaintances, shirkers like -himself; but in the congregation of loafers is no true comradeship. -Without admitting it even to himself, he still admired the boy who had -faithfully championed his cause――not always virtuous――in the past, -whose material possessions he had invariably shared, whose stolid -sense of honour had so often puzzled his own mischievous mind, whose -home he had envied despite a certain furtive dread of the woman who -ruled there. Altogether it may be questioned whether Willie’s grudge -was directed against his old friend and not against that which had -caused his old friend’s defection. At all events, he began to spare -Macgregor any necessity for dodging, and took to shadowing him on his -solitary strolls. - -On the grey Saturday afternoon of the week rendered so eventful by his -first real shave, Macgregor was once more standing by the window of M. -Tod’s shop. He was endeavouring to prop up his courage with the -recollection of the fact that a fortnight ago, at the same hour as the -present, there had been no old woman behind the counter, and with the -somewhat rash deduction that no old woman was there now. - -He was also wondering what he could buy for a penny without making a -fool of himself. The spending of a penny when there is absolutely -nothing one wants to buy is not quite so simple a transaction as at -first thought it may seem――unless, of course, the shop is packed with -comestibles; and even then one may hesitate to choose. Besides, -Macgregor was obsessed by the memory of the pencil transaction of -three nights ago. Had he but kept his head then, and confined his -purchase to a single pencil, he might now have had a fair excuse for -requiring another. At any rate, he could have met suspicion with the -explanation that he had lost the first. But who would believe that he -had used, or lost, a whole dozen within the brief space of three days? - -A wretched position to be in, for nothing else in the world of -stationery was quite so natural and easy to ask for as a -pencil――unless a―――― Why had he not thought of it before?――a pen! -Saved! He would enter boldly, as one who had every right to do so, and -demand to be shown some pencils――no, pens, of course. There were many -varieties of pens, he knew, even in small shops, so his selection -would take time――lots of time! If only he were _sure_ the old woman -wasn’t there. - -And just then the bell rang, the door of the shop opened and closed, -and the old woman herself came out. In spite of her hat Macgregor -recognised her at once. She turned her face skywards to make certain -that it wasn’t raining, gave a satisfied smirk, which Macgregor -accepted with a fearful start, though it was intended for the window -and its contents, and trotted up the street. - -On the wave of relief, as it were, Macgregor was carried from the -window to the entrance. Yet he had no sooner opened the door with its -disconcerting note of warning than he wished he had delayed a minute -or two longer. To retire, however, was out of the question. He closed -the door as though he were afraid of wakening a baby, and faced the -counter. - -The girl was there, and wearing the scarlet blouse again. Laying aside -the magazine which she had just picked up, she smiled coldly and said -calmly: “Good-afternoon. Nice day after the rain.” - -In mentally rehearsing his entrance the previous night Macgregor had, -among other things, seen himself raise his brand-new bowler hat. To -his subsequent shame and regret, he now omitted to perform the little -courtesy. That he should forget his manners was perhaps even less -surprising than that he should forget the hat itself, which gripped -his head in a cruel fashion. - -“Ay,” he said solemnly in response to the polite greeting, and -advanced to the counter. - -“Not just so disagreeable as yesterday,” she added, a trifle more -cordially. - -“Ay――na.” He glanced up and down the counter. “I――I was wantin’ a -pencil,” he said at last. - -“A _pencil_!” cried Christina; then in a voice from which all the -amazement had gone: “A pencil――oh, certainly.” - -Macgregor reddened, opened his mouth and――shut it. Why should he make -a bigger fool of himself by explaining that he had meant to say “a -pen?” Besides (happy thought!) the pen would be an excuse for calling -another time. - -Christina opened the drawer and paused, pursing her lips. Her tone was -casual as she said: “I hope you found the dozen you bought lately -quite satisfactory.” - -“Oh――ay, they were――splendid.” Macgregor blushed again. - -Christina smiled as prettily as any musical comedy actress selling -guinea button-holes at a charity fête. She said: “I’ll tell Miss Tod. -She’ll be delighted. It’s a great saving, buying a dozen, isn’t it?” -Her hand went into the drawer. “Especially when one uses so many. It’s -hardly worth while buying a single pencil, is it?” Her hand came out -of the drawer and laid a bundle in front of Macgregor. “Wonderful how -they can do it for threepence!” - -He stared at the bundle, his will fluttering like a bird under a -strawberry net. Dash the pencils!――but she might be offended if―――― - -“Some shops sell those pencils at a ha’penny each, I know,” she went -on; “and I believe some have the neck――I mean the cheek to ask a -penny. Would you like me to put them in paper, sir?” - -Recovering from the shock of the “sir,” Macgregor shook his head, and -laid three coppers on the counter. - -“Thank you,” said she. “Is there anything else to-day?” - -Before he could answer, the door opened and an elderly man entered. At -the ring of the bell Macgregor dropped the bundle; the flimsy -fastening parted, and the pencils were scattered. - -Christina checked an “Oh, crickey!” and turned to attend to the second -customer while the first collected his purchases from the floor. - -The elderly man wanted a newspaper only, but thanks to Christina’s -politeness over the transaction, he went out feeling as if he had done -quite a stroke of business. - -“I think you should let me tie them up for you,” she said to -Macgregor, who was rising once more, rather red in the face. - -“Thank ye,” he said apologetically, handing her the pencils. - -“Accidents will happen,” she remarked cheerfully. “If they didn’t, -there would be mighty little happening. I say, there’s only eleven -pencils here.” - -“The ither rolled ablow the counter. It doesna matter,” he said. - -“Oh, but that won’t do. See, I’ll give you another now, and get the -one under the counter some day――next stock-taking, maybe.” She began -to make a parcel, then halted in the operation. “Are you sure there’s -nothing else that I can show you to-day, sir?” - -Macgregor didn’t want to go just yet, so he appeared to be thinking -deeply. - -“Essay paper――notebooks,” she murmured; “notepaper――envelopes―― -indiarubber――――” - -“Injinrubber,” said Macgregor. (He would give it to Jimsie.) - -She turned and whipped a box from a shelf. “Do you prefer the red or -the white――species?” she enquired, and felt glad she hadn’t said -“sort.” - -“Oh, I’m no heedin’ which,” he replied generously, with a bare glance -at the specimens laid out for his inspection. - -“All the same price――one penny per cake. The red is more flexible.” By -way of exhibiting its quality, she took the oblong lengthwise between -her finger and thumb and squeezed. To her dismay it sprang from her -grip and struck her customer on the chin. - -“Oh, mercy!” she exclaimed. “I didna mean――” - -Recovering the missile from the floor, he said gravely: “My! ye’re a -comic!” - -“I’m not! I tell ye I didna mean it. Did it hurt ye?” - -“No’ likely! I ken ye didna try it.” He smiled faintly. “If ye had -tried to hit me, ye wud ha’e missed me.” - -“If I had tried, I wud ha’e hit ye a heap harder,” she said -indignantly. - -“Try, then.” His smile broadened as he offered her the cake. “I’ll -stan’ still.” - -Christina’s sporting instinct was roused. “I’ll bet ye the price o’ -the cake I hit ye.” And let fly. - -It went over his left shoulder. - -“Ha’e anither shot,” he said, stooping to pick up the rubber. - -But as swiftly as it had gone her professional dignity returned. -Macgregor came back to the counter to receive a stiff: “Thank you. Do -you require anything else to-day?” - -His mumbled negative, his disappointed countenance reproached her. - -“Of course,” she said pleasantly, as she put his purchases in paper, -“I cannot charge you for the indiarubber.” - -“Aw, cheese it!” he muttered shortly, flinging a penny on the counter. - -“I beg your pardon?”――this with supreme haughtiness. - -“Oh, ye needna. An’ ye can keep yer injinrubber――an’ yer pencils -forbye!” With these words he wheeled about and strode for the door. - -Christina collapsed. A customer who paid for goods and then -practically threw them at her was beyond her experience and -comprehension. - -“Here!” she cried. “Stop a minute! I――I was jist jokin’. Come back an’ -get yer things. We’ll no’ quarrel aboot the penny.” - -With his fingers on the handle he paused and regarded her half -angrily, half reproachfully. He wanted to say something very cutting, -but it wouldn’t come. - -“Please,” said Christina softly, dropping her eyes. “Ye’ll get me into -trouble if ye dinna tak’ them.” - -“Eh?” - -“Miss Tod wud be vexed wi’ me for lossin’ a guid customer. She wud -gi’e me the sack, maybe.” - -“Wud she?――the auld besom!” cried Macgregor, retracing his steps. - -“Oh, whisht! She’s no’ an auld besom. But I ken she wud be vexed.” -Christina sighed. “I suppose I’m to blame for――――” - -“It’s me that’s to blame,” he interrupted. “Here!” he said in an -unsteady whisper, “will ye shake han’s?” - -After a momentary hesitation she gave him her hand, saying graciously: -“I’ve no objections, I’m sure. To tell the truth,” she went on, “I am -not entirely disinterested in you, sir.” - -Macgregor withdrew his empty hand. “I――I wish ye wudna speak like -that,” he sighed. - -“Like what?” - -“That awfu’ genteel talk.” - -“Sorry,” she said. “But it gangs doon wi’ maist o’ the customers. -Besides, I try to keep it up to please ma aunt. But it doesna soun’ -frien’ly-like, does it?” - -“That’s why I dinna like it,” he ventured, more easily. - -“I see. But if ye was servin’ in a shop ye wud ha’e to speak the same -way.” - -“I’m in the pentin’ trade,” he informed her, with an air of -importance. - -“I’ve a nose――but I like the smell fine. Ye’re no’ offended, are ye?” - -“I’m no’ that easy offended. Is Miss Tod yer aunt?” - -“Na, na; she’s nae relation. Ma aunt is Mrs. James Baldwin.” In the -frankest fashion she gave a brief sketch of her position on the -world’s surface. While she spoke she seated herself on the stool, and -Macgregor, without thinking about it, subsided upon the chair and -leant his arm upon the counter. Ere she ended they were regarding each -other almost familiarly. - -Anon Macgregor furnished a small account of himself and his near -relatives. - -“That’s queer!” commented Christina when he had finished. - -“What?” he asked, anxiously. - -“Ma Uncle James is a great frien’ o’ your Uncle Purdie. Your uncle -buys a heap o’ fancy things frae mine, an’ he’s often been in oor -hoose. I hear he’s worth a terrible heap o’ money, but naebody wud -think it. I like him fine.” - -“Ye wudna like ma aunt fine,” said Macgregor. - -“No’ bein’ acquaint wi’ her, I canna say,” Christina returned. “But I -believe if it hadna been for her yer uncle wud never ha’e made his -fortune at the grocery trade――――” - -“Her! What had she got to dae wi’ ’t?” - -“Dear knows; but Uncle James says she egged him on to mak’ money frae -the day she married him. But mony a woman does that. I wud dae it -masel’――no’ that I’m greedy; I jist couldna endure a man that didna -get on. I hate a stick-in-the-mud. It’s a fac’, though, that Mr. -Purdie got the push-on frae his wife. An’ Uncle James says he’s no’ -near done yet: he’ll be Lord Provost afore he’s feenished. Ye should -keep in wi’ yer Uncle Purdie.” - -Macgregor scarcely heard her latter words. His Aunt Purdie responsible -for his Uncle Purdie’s tremendous success in business! The idea was -almost shocking. From his earliest boyhood it had been a sort of -religion with him to admire his uncle and despise his aunt. Could any -good thing come out of Aunt Purdie? - -“I doobt yer Uncle James doesna ken _her_ extra weel,” he said at -last. - -“Oh, ma uncle’s a splendid judge o’ character,” she assured him. -“Especially female character,” she added. “That’s why he married ma -aunt an’ adopted me. I took his name, like ma aunt did when she -married him. It was a love match, in spite o’ their ages. There’s -grander names, but nane better, nor Baldwin. In ma youth I called it -Bald-yin to tease ma aunt when she was saft on him. But never heed -aboot that the noo. D’ye ken what astonishes me aboot yersel’?” - -“What?” asked Macgregor, startled. - -“That ye’re no’ in the grocery trade.” - -“Me! What for wud I be a grocer?” - -“What for are ye a penter? An’ yer Uncle Purdie has nae offspring. My! -if I had had a chance like you!” She heaved a sigh. “I’m sure yer -uncle wud ha’e ta’en ye into his business. Ye canna be sae stupid that -he wudna gi’e ye even a trial. Nae offence intended.” - -“I could ha’e been in the business if I had wanted,” Macgregor -replied, with some dignity. “He offered me a job when I left the -schule. But, ye see, I aye had the notion to be a penter. I like to be -movin’ ma han’s an’ feet.” - -“An’ what did yer parents say?” - -“They canna thole Aunt Purdie. It was her that brought the message -frae ma uncle――as if it was a favour. They said I was to choose for -masel’.” - -“Pride’s an awfu’ thing for costin’ folk cash,” the girl remarked, -with a shake of her head. - -“Eh?” - -“Naething,” she replied. After a slight pause she continued: “It’s no’ -for me to speak aboot yer parents, but I hope ye’ll excuse me sayin’ -that ye’re a bigger fool than ye look.” - -“Wha――what d’ye mean?” - -“I didna mean to insult ye or hurt yer feelin’s.” Another pause. “D’ye -no’ want to get up in the world, man? D’ye no’ want to be a -millionaire――or a thoosandaire, onyway?” - -“Me?” - -“Ay, you!” - -Across the counter he regarded her in a semi-dazed fashion, -speechless. She was rather flushed; her eyes danced with eagerness. -Apparently she was all in earnest. - -“Are ye gaun to be a penter a’ yer life?” she demanded. - -“What for no’?” he retorted with some spirit. “It’s guid pay.” - -“Guid pay! In ten year what’ll ye be makin’?” - -“I couldna say. Maybe――maybe twenty-five shillin’s; maybe――――” - -“A week?” - -“Ay; of course,” he said, nettled. “D’ye think I meant a month?” - -“If ye was wi’ yer uncle an’ stickin’ to yer business, I wud ha’e said -’a day’! Ma gracious goodness! if ye was pleasin’ a man like that, -there’s nae sayin’ where ye wud be in ten year.” - -“Ach,” he said, with an attempt at lightness, “I’m no’ heedin’.” - -Christina doubled her fist and smote the counter with such violence -that he fairly jumped on his seat. - -“Ye’re no’ heedin’! What’s the use o’ bein’ alive if ye’re no’ -heedin’? But ye’re a’ the same, you young workin’ men. Yer rule is to -dae the least ye can for yer wages, an’ never snap at an opportunity. -An’ when ye get aulder ye gang on strike an’ gas aboot yer rights, but -ye keep dumb enough aboot yer deserts, an’――――” - -“Here, haud on!” cried Macgregor, now thoroughly roused. “What dae you -ken aboot it? Ye’re jist a lassie――――” - -“I’ve eyes an’ ears.” - -There was a pause. - -“Are ye a――a suffragist?” he asked, weakly. - -“I ha’ena quite decided on that p’int. Are you in favour o’ votes for -females? Aweel, there’s nae use answerin’, for ye’ve never thought -aboot it. I suppose, like the ither young men aboot here, ye buy yer -brains every Seturday done up in the sports edition o’ the evenin’ -paper. Oh, Christopher Columbus! that’s when _I_ get busy on a -Seturday nicht. Footba’――footba’――footba’!” - -Macgregor swallowed these remarks, and reverted to the previous -question. “What,” he enquired a little loftily, “dae _you_ expec’ to -be earnin’ ten year frae the noo?” - -Promptly, frankly, she replied: “If I’m no’ drawin’ thirty shillin’s a -week I’ll consider masel’ a bad egg. Of course, it a’ depends on -whether I select to remain single or itherwise.” - -This was too much for Macgregor. He surveyed her with such blank -bewilderment that she burst out laughing. - -He went red to the roots of his hair, or at any rate to the edge of -his hat. “Oh, I kent fine ye was coddin’ me,” he said crossly, looking -hurt and getting to his feet. - -She stopped laughing at once. “That’s the worst o’ talkin’ plain sense -nooadays; folk think ye’re only coddin’,” she observed, good-humouredly. -“I’m sorry I vexed ye.” Impulsively she held out her hand. “I doobt -we’ll ha’e to shake again.” - -This, also, was too much for Macgregor. He seized her fingers in a -grip that made her squeal. - -And just then bang went the bell above the door. - -Christina bit her lip and smiled through her tears as M. Tod entered -the shop. - -“Anything else to-day?” she enquired in her politest voice, and placed -the little parcel under Macgregor’s hand. - -His reply was inaudible. His hand closed automatically on his -purchase, his eyes met hers for the fraction of a second, and then he -practically bolted. - -“Young men are aye in sich a great hurry nooadays,” remarked M. Tod, -beginning to remove her gloves. - -“He’s the young man that bought the dizzen pencils the ither nicht,” -Christina explained, examining the joints of her right hand. “I’ve -just been sellin’ him anither dizzen.” - -“Dearie me! he _must_ be a reporter on yin of the papers.” - -“He’s a whale for pencils, whatever he is,” Christina returned, -putting straight the piles of periodicals that adorned the counter. “I -doobt he wud need to report wi’ his feet forbye his han’s to get -through a dizzen pencils in three days. It’s a bit o’ a mystery aboot -the pencils.” - -“A mystery!” exclaimed M. Tod, who was just about to blow into a -glove. - -Christina picked the neglected penny from the counter and dropped it -into the till. “It’s a case o’ _cherchez la femme_,” she said softly, -with quite a passable accent. - -“What’s that?” murmured M. Tod. - -“French,” sighed Christina, making a jotting of her last sales, and -taking a long time to do it. - -M. Tod stared for a moment or two, shook her head, drew a long breath, -and with the same inflated her glove. - - - - -CHAPTER SEVEN - - -Macgregor was half-way home ere he comprehended the cause of the dull -ache about his temples. He eased his hat and obtained relief. But -there was no lid to lift from his mind which seemed to be overcrowded -with a jumble of ideas――old ideas turned topsy-turvy, some damaged, -some twisted, and new ideas struggling, as it were, for existence. -Moral earthquakes are not infrequent during our ’teens and twenties; -by their convulsions they provide construction material for character; -but the material is mixed, and we are left to choose whether we shall -erect sturdy towers or jerry-buildings. - - * * * * * - -The boy was not, of course, aware that here was a crisis in his life. -He was staggered and disturbed, just as he would have been had the -smooth, broad street on which he walked suddenly become a narrow pass -beset with rifts and boulders. The upheaval of his preconceived -notions of girlhood had been sharp indeed. He had never heard a girl -speak as Christina had spoken; it had never occurred to him that a -girl could speak so. But while he felt hurt and vexed, he harboured no -resentment; her frank friendliness had disposed of that; and while he -was humbled, he was not――thanks to his modesty, or, if you prefer it, -lack of cocksureness――grievously humiliated. It is not in the nature -of healthy youth to let misery have all its own way. - -Before he reached home he was able to extract several sips of comfort -from his recent experience. He knew her name and she knew his; they -had discovered a mutual acquaintance (how we love those mutual -acquaintances――sometimes!); they had shaken hands twice. - -He spent the evening indoors――he might have done otherwise had not -Christina said something about being busy on Saturday nights. He was -patient with his little brother, almost tender towards his sister. He -played several games of draughts with his father, wondering between -his deplorable moves when he should see Christina again. He spoke in a -subdued fashion. And about nine o’clock his mother anxiously asked him -whether he was feeling quite well, and offered to prepare a homely -potion. One regrets to record that he returned a rough answer and went -off to bed, leaving Lizzie to shake her head more in sorrow than in -anger while she informed John that she doubted Macgregor was -“sickenin’ for something.” As Macgregor had not condescended to play -draughts for at least two years, John was inclined to share her fears; -it did not occur to him to put down such conduct to feminine -influence; and an hour later, at her suggestion, he went to his son’s -room and softly opened the door. - -“Oh! ye’re no’ in yer bed yet, Macgreegor?” - -“I’m jist gaun.” - -“What are ye workin’ at?” - -“Jist sharpenin’ a pencil. I’ll no’ be lang”――impatiently. - -“Are ye feelin’ weel enough?” - -“I’m fine. Dinna fash yersel’.” - -John withdrew and reported to Lizzie. She was not satisfied, and -before going to bed, about eleven o’clock, she listened at Macgregor’s -door. All she heard was: “Here, Jimsie, I wish to peace ye wud keep -yer feet to yersel’.” - -She opened the door. “Laddie, are ye no’ sleepin’ yet?” - -“Hoo can I sleep wi’ Jimsie jabbin’ his feet in ma back?” - -She entered, and going to the bed removed the unconscious Jimsie to -his own portion thereof, at the same time urging him into a more -comfortable position. Then she came round and laid her hand on her -first-born’s brow. - -“Are ye sure ye’re a’ richt, laddie?” - -“Ay, I’m fine. I wish ye wudna fash,” he said shortly, turning over. - -Lizzie went out, closing the door gently. On the kitchen dresser she -set out the medicine bottle and spoon against emergencies. - -Perhaps there is a mansion in Heaven that will always be empty――a -mansion waiting to receive those who in their youth never snubbed -their anxious parents. Ere the door closed Macgregor was pricked with -compunction. He was sensitive enough for that. But it is the sensitive -people who hurt the people they care for. - -In extenuation let it be said at once that the boy was enduring a dire -reaction. It now appeared that Christina’s friendliness had been all -in the way of business. Socially (he did not think the word, of -course) Christina was beyond him. Christina, for all he knew, sat at -night in a parlour, had an aunt that kept a servant (and, maybe, a -gramaphone), was accustomed to young men in high collars and trousers -that always looked new. Yes, she had shaken hands with him simply in -order to get him to come back and buy another dozen of pencils. - -He was very unhappy. He tossed from side to side until the voice of -Jimsie, drowsy and peevish, declared that he had taken all the -clothes. Which was practically true, though he did not admit it as he -disentangled himself of the blankets and flung them all at his -brother. He did not care if he froze――until he began to feel a little -cold, when he rescued with difficulty a portion of the coverings from -Jimsie’s greedy clutch. He would not go to the shop again. But he -would pass it as often as possible. He would get Willie Thomson to -accompany him, and they would smoke cigarettes, and they would stop at -the door when a customer was entering, and laugh very loudly. He would -save up and take Jessie Mary to the dance――at least, he would think -about it. After all, it might be more effective to go to the shop and -buy more presents for Jessie Mary and――oh, great idea!――request with -great unconcern that they should be sent to her address! - -The clock in the kitchen struck one. With any sympathy at all it would -have struck at least five. It was like telling a person in the throes -of toothache that the disease is not serious. By the way, one wonders -if doctors will ever know as much about disease as patients know about -pain. Speculation apart, it is a sorry business to flatter ourselves -we have been suffering all night only to find that the night is but -beginning. Still, there must have, been something far wrong with the -Robinsons’ kitchen clock. Macgregor waited, but to his knowledge it -never struck two. Indeed, it missed all the hours until nine. - -Macgregor, however, presented himself in good time for the Sunday -breakfast. His punctuality was too much for his mother, and she -insisted on his taking a dose from the bottle on the dresser. Even -youth is sometimes too tired to argue. “Onything for peace,” was his -ungracious remark as he raised the spoon to his lips. - - * * * * * - -Scotland in its harshest, bleakest period of religious observance -could not have provided a more dismal Sabbath than Macgregor provided -for himself. Although his mother gave him the option of staying at -home, he accompanied his parents to church; although he came back with -a good appetite, he refused to let himself enjoy his dinner; although -he desired to take the accustomed Sunday afternoon walk with his -father down to the docks (they had gone there, weather permitting, for -years), he shut himself up in the solitude of his bedroom. - -He spent most of the afternoon in putting points to his stock of -pencils. How the operation should have occupied so much time may be -explained by the fact that the lead almost invariably parted from the -wood ere a perfect point was attained. Indeed, when the task was -ended, he had comparatively little to show for his threepence save a -heap of shavings, fragments and dust. His resentment, however, was all -against M. Tod; he wished she had been of his own sex and size. He -also wished she had kept an ice-cream shop, open on Sundays.――No, he -didn’t! Christina wouldn’t like working on Sundays; besides, an awful -lot of chaps hung about ice-cream shops. He wondered what church -Christina attended. If he only knew, he might go there in the evening. -(What our churches owe to young womanhood will never be known.) But -there were scores of churches in Glasgow. It would take years to get -round them――and in the end she might sit in the gallery and he under -it. In the unlikely event of his again entering Miss Tod’s shop, there -would be no harm in asking Christina about her church and whether she -sang in the choir. But stop! if she didn’t sing in the choir, she -might think he was chaffing her. That wouldn’t do at all. Better just -find out about the church, and if he didn’t get a view of her on his -first visit he could try again. - -There appears no reason why Macgregor’s spirits should have gradually -risen throughout these and other equally rambling reflections; but the -fact remains that they did so. By tea-time he was in a comely -condition of mind. He made young Jimsie happy with the cake of rubber -and presented Jeannie surreptitiously with a penny, “to buy sweeties.” -He seemed interested in his father’s account of a vessel that had been -in collision the previous day. He did not scowl when his mother -expressed satisfaction with the way in which he was punishing the -bread and butter, and openly congratulated herself on having -administered the physic just in time. Nay, more; he offered to stay in -the house with Jimsie while John and Lizzie took an evening stroll and -Jeannie went with a friend to evening service. No people are quite so -easily made happy as parents, and when, out-of-doors, John suggested -that Macgregor’s weekly allowance should be raised to one shilling, -Lizzie actually met him half-way by promising to make it ninepence in -future. - -During their absence Macgregor did his utmost to amuse Jimsie, who was -suffering from an incipient cold, but shortly after their return he -became restless, and ere long announced (rather indistinctly) his -intention of going out for “twa-three” minutes. - -Lizzie was about to ask “where?” when John remarked that it was a fine -night and that he would come too. Thus was frustrated Macgregor’s -desire to take one look at the shuttered shrine with “M. Tod” over the -portal――a very foolish sort of desire, as many of us know――from -experience. - -In the circumstances Macgregor accepted his father’s company with a -fairly good grace, merely submitting that the walk should be a short -one. - -On the way home, at a corner, under a lamp, they came upon Willie -Thomson in earnest and apparently amicable conversation with Jessie -Mary. Such friendliness struck Macgregor as peculiar, for since the -days of their childhood the twain had openly expressed contempt and -dislike for each other, and he wondered what was “up,” especially when -the sight of him appeared to cause Willie, at least, considerable -embarrassment. But presently the happy idea flashed upon him that -Willie had suddenly become “sweet” on Jessie Mary, and would -accordingly need to be dodged no longer. He felt more friendly towards -Willie than for some time past. His feelings with regard to Jessie -Mary were less definite, but he was sure his face had not got “extra -red” under her somewhat mocking glance. - -“Ye’re no’ as thick wi’ Wullie as ye used to be,” his father remarked. - -“Oh, we’ve nae quarrel,” he returned. “What did ye say was the name o’ -that damaged boat ye saw the day?” - - * * * * * - -He went to bed not unhappy. He would find a way of knowing Christina -better and proving to her that the painting trade was as good as any. - - - - -CHAPTER EIGHT - - -“Ye’ve been in business a long time, Miss Tod,” said Christina on -Monday afternoon, looking up from the front advertising page of a -newspaper; “so I wish ye wud tell me yer honest opinion o’ business in -general.” - -M. Tod paused in the act of polishing a fancy ink-pot (she had spasms -of industry for which there was no need) and stared in bewildered -fashion at her assistant. “Dearie me, lassie!” she exclaimed, “ye say -the queerest things! Ma honest opinion o’ business? I’m sure I never -thought aboot――――” - -“I’ll put it anither way. Supposin’ ye was back at the schule, an’ ye -was asked to define business――ye ken what define means――what wud be -yer answer?” - -“Is it fun ye’re after?” M. Tod enquired, a trifle suspiciously. - -“I was never mair serious in ma life,” Christina returned rather -indignantly. - -“I didna mean to offend ye,” the other said gently. “But ye ken fine -what business is――whiles I think ye ken better nor me, though I’ve -been at it for near six-an’-thirty years.” - -“I’m not offended,” said Christina, dropping the vernacular for the -moment. “And I merely desired to know if your definition of business -was the same as mine.” - -It always made M. Tod a little nervous when her assistant addressed -her in such correct speech. “Business,” she began, and halted. She set -the ink-pot on the counter, and tried to put the duster in her pocket. - -“A few words will suffice,” the girl remarked encouragingly, and took -charge of the duster. - -“Business,” resumed the old woman, and quite unconsciously put her -hands behind her back, “business is jist buyin’ and sellin’.” And she -gave a little smile of relief and satisfaction. - -Christina shook her head. “I suppose that’s what they taught ye at the -schule――jist the same as they taught me. If it wasna for their fancy -departments, sich as physiology an’ Sweedish drill, the schules wud be -oot o’ date. ‘Jist buyin’ an’ sellin’!’――Oh, Christopher Columbus!” - -M. Tod was annoyed, partly, no doubt, at discovering her hands behind -her back, but ere she could express herself Christina added: - -“In _ma_ honest opinion business chiefly consists in folk coddin’ yin -anither.” - -M. Tod gasped. “Coddin’! D’ye mean deceivin’?” - -“Na; there’s a difference between coddin’ an’ deceivin’. Same sort o’ -difference as between war an’ murder. An’ they say that all’s fair in -love――I ha’e ma doobts aboot love――an’ war. Mind ye, I’m no’ sayin’ -onything against coddin’. We’re a’ in the same boat. Some cods wi’ -advertisin’――see daily papers; some cods wi’ talk; some cods wi’ -lookin’ solemn an’ smilin’ jist at the right times. But we’re a’ -coddin’, cod, cod, coddin’! But we’ll no’ admit it! An’ naebody wud -thank us if we did.” - -The old woman was almost angry. “I’m sure I never codded a customer in -ma life,” she cried. - -Christina regarded her very kindly for a second or two ere she -returned pleasantly: “I wudna say but what you’re an exception to the -rule, Miss Tod. But ye’re a rare exception. Even ma uncle――an’ he’s -the honestest man in the world――once codded me when I was assistin’ ma -aunt at Kilmabeg, afore she got married. Wi’ his talk an’ his smiles -he got me to buy things against ma better judgment――things I was sure -wud never sell. If he had been dumb an’ I had been blind, I would -never ha’e made the purchase. But I was young then. Of course _he_ -didna want to cod me; it was jist a habit he had got into wi’ bein’ in -business. But there’s nae doobt,” she went on calmly, ignoring M. -Tod’s obvious desire to get a word in, “there’s nae doobt that coddin’ -is yin o’ the secrets o’ success. When ye consider that half the trade -o’ the world consists in sellin’ things that folk dinna need an’ -whiles dinna want――――” - -“Whisht, lassie! Ye speak as if naebody had a conscience!” - -“I didna mean that,” was the mild reply. “It’s the only thing in this -world that’s no’ easy codded――though some folk seem to be able to do -the trick. For, of course, there’s a limit to coddin’ in -business――fair coddin’, I mean. But ye’ve taken ma remarks ower -seriously, Miss Tod.” - -“I never heard sich remarks in a’ ma days.” - -“I’m sorry I’ve annoyed ye.” - -“Ye ha’ena annoyed me, dearie. But I’m vexed to think ye’ve got sich -notions in yer young heid.” M. Tod sighed. - -Christina sighed also, a little impatiently, and picked up the fancy -ink-pot from the counter. “Hoo lang ha’e ye had this in the shop?” she -enquired carelessly. - -M. Tod shook her head. “Ten years, onyway. It wudna sell.” - -“It’s marked eighteenpence.” - -“Ay. But when I had a wee sale, five year back, I put it among a lot -of nick-nacks at threepence, an’ even then it wudna sell. It’s no’ -pretty.” - -“It’s ugly――but that’s nae reason for it no’ sellin’.” Christina -examined the glass carefully. “It’s no’ in bad condition,” she -observed. “Wud ye part wi’ it for ninepence?” - -“Ninepence! I’ll never get ninepence!” - -“Never say die till ye’re buried! Jist wait a minute.” Christina went -over to the desk and spent about five minutes there, while M. Tod -watched her with intermittent wags of her old head. - -The girl came back with a small oblong of white card. “Dinna touch it, -Miss Tod. The ink’s no’ dry,” she said warningly, and proceeded to -place the inkpot and card together in a prominent position on the -glass show-case that covered a part of the counter. “Noo, that’ll gi’e -it a chance. Instead o’ keepin’ it in a corner as if we were ashamed -o’ it, we’ll mak’ a feature o’ it for a week, an’ see what happens. -Ye’ll get yer ninepence yet.” - -Christina printed admirably, and her employer had no difficulty in -reading the card a yard away even without her glasses. It bore these -words: - - ANTIQUE - - NOVEL GIFT - - MERELY 9D. - -“If ye call a thing ‘antique,’” explained Christina, “folk forget its -ugliness. An’ the public likes a thing wi’ ‘novel’ on it, though they -wudna believe ye if ye said it was new. An’ as for ‘gift’――weel, that -adds to the inkpot’s chances o’ findin’ a customer. D’ye see?” - -“Ay,” said the old woman. “Ye’re a clever lassie, but I doobt ye’ll -never get ninepence.” - -“Gi’e me a week,” said Christina, “an’ if it doesna disappear in that -time, we’ll keep it till Christmas an’ reduce it to a shillin’. But I -think a week’ll suffice.” - -M. Tod hesitated ere she gently said: “But ye’ll no try to cod -onybody, dearie?” - -Christina waved her hand in the direction of the card. “I’ll leave the -public to cod itsel’,” she said. “Noo it’s time ye was gettin’ ready -for yer walk.” - - * * * * * - -It may have been that Christina, in the back of her mind, saw in -Macgregor a possible customer for the ugly inkpot. At any rate, she -was disappointed when the evening passed without his entering the -shop; she hoped she had not spoken too plainly to him on his last -visit――not but what he needed plain speaking. She was not to know -until later how Macgregor’s employer had unexpectedly decreed that he -should work overtime that night, nor how Macgregor had obeyed -joylessly despite the extra pay. - -He called the following evening――and found M. Tod alone at the receipt -of custom. He had yet to learn that on Tuesdays and Thursdays -Christina left business early in order to attend classes. He must have -looked foolish as he approached the counter, yet he had the presence -of mind to ask for a ha’penny evening paper. Fortune being -fickle――thank goodness!――does not confine her favour to the brave, and -on this occasion she had arranged that M. Tod should be sold out of -that particular evening paper. So Macgregor saved his money as well as -his self-respect. - -On the morrow M. Tod, who still clung to the belief that the young man -wrote for the papers, reported the incident to her assistant. Possibly -Christina could have given a better reason than this for her -subsequent uncertainty of temper, and doubtless it was mere -absent-mindedness that accounted for her leaving the sliding panel to -the window a few inches open after she had thrown it wide without any -apparent purpose. And it is highly probable that Macgregor would have -taken advantage of the aperture had he not been again working overtime -on that and on the two following nights. - -So it was not until Saturday afternoon that they met once more. -Macgregor held aloof from the shop until M. Tod appeared――of course -she was later than usual!――and, after an anxious gaze at the sky, -proceeded to toddle up the street. Then he approached the window. He -was feeling fairly hopeful. His increased allowance had come as a -pleasant surprise. Moreover, he had saved during the week fourpence in -car-money and had spent nothing. He had fifteenpence in his -pocket――wealth! - -As he halted at the window, the panel at the back was drawn tight with -an audible snap. For a moment he felt snubbed; then he assured himself -there was nothing extraordinary in the occurrence, and prepared to -enter the shop, reminding himself, firstly, that he was going to -purchase a penholder, secondly, that he was not going to lose his head -when the bell banged. - -Christina was perched at the desk writing with much diligence. She -laid down a pencil and slipped from her stool promptly but without -haste. - -“Good-afternoon, Mr. Robinson,” she said demurely. - -If anyone else in the world had called him “Mister Robinson” he would -have resented it as chaff, but now, though taken aback, he felt no -annoyance. - -“Ay, it’s a fine day,” he returned, rather irrelevantly, and suddenly -held out his hand. - -This was a little more than Christina had expected, but she gave him -hers with the least possible hesitation. For once in her life, -however, she was not ready with a remark. - -Macgregor having got her hand, let it go immediately, as though he -were doubtful as to the propriety of what he had done. - -“I’ve been workin’ late every day this week excep’ Tuesday,” he said. - -For an instant Christina looked pleased; then she calmly murmured: -“Oh, indeed.” - -“Ay, every day excep’ Tuesday, till nine o’clock,” he informed her, -with an effort. - -“Really!” - -He struggled against a curious feeling of mental suffocation, and -said: “I was in here on Tuesday nicht. I――I didna see ye.” - -“I attend a shorthand class on Tuesday nights.” - -“Oh!” He wanted very much to make her smile, so he said: “When I didna -see ye on Tuesday, I was afraid ye had got the sack.” - -Christina drew herself up. “What can I do for you to-day, Mr. -Robinson?” she enquired with stiff politeness. - -“I was jist jokin’,” he cried, dismayed; “I didna mean to offend ye.” - -Christina’s fingers played a soundless tune on the edge of the -counter; her eyes gazed over his head into space. She waited with an -air of weary patience. - -“I was wantin’ a pen――a penholder,” he said at last, in a hopeless -tone of voice. - -“Ha’penny or penny?” she asked without moving. - -“A penny yin, please,” he said humbly. - -She turned and twitched a card from its nail, and laid it before him. -“Kindly take your choice,” she said, and moved up the counter a yard -or so. She picked up a novelette and opened it. - -Macgregor examined and fingered the penholders for nearly a minute by -the clock ere he glanced at her. She appeared to be engrossed in the -novelette, but he was sure he had hurt her feelings. - -“I was jist jokin’,” he muttered. - -“Oh, you wanted a ha’penny one.” She twitched down another card of -penholders, laid it before him as if――so it seemed to him――he had been -dirt, and went back to her novelette. - -Had he been less in love he would surely have been angry then. Had she -seen his look she would certainly have been sorry. - -There was a long silence while his gaze wandered, while he wondered -what he could do to make amends. - -And lo! the ugly inkpot caught his eye. He read the accompanying card -several times; he fingered the money in his pocket; he told himself -insistently that ninepence was not worth considering. Once more he -glanced at the girl. She was frowning slightly over the page. Perhaps -she wanted him to go. - -“I’ll buy that, if ye like,” he said, pointing at the inkpot. - -“Eh?” cried Christina, and dropped the novelette. “Beg your pardon,” -she went on, recovering her dignity and moving leisurely towards him, -“but I did not quite catch what you observed.” She was pleased that -she had used the word “observed.” - -“I’ll buy that,” repeated Macgregor. “What’s it for?” - -“It’s for keeping ink in. It’s an inkpot. The price is ninepence.” - -“I can read,” said Macgregor, with perhaps his first essay in irony. - -Christina tilted her chin. “I presume you want it for a gift,” she -said haughtily. - -“Na; I’m gaun to pay for it.” - -“I meant to give away as a gift.” It was rather a stupid sentence, she -felt. If she had only remembered to use the word “bestow.” - -The boy’s clear eyes met hers for a second. - -“It holds a great deal of ink,” she said, possibly in reply to her -conscience. - -“I’ll buy a bottle o’ ink, too, if ye like,” he said recklessly, and -looked at her again. - -A flood of honest kindliness swamped the business instinct of -Christina. “I didna mean that!” she exclaimed, flopping into homely -speech; “an’ I wudna sell ye that rotten inkpot for a hundred pound!” - -It will be admitted that Macgregor’s amazement was natural in the -circumstances. Ere he recovered from it she was in fair control of -herself. - -“It’s as good as sold to the Rev. Mr. McTavish,” she explained. Her -sole foundation for the statement lay in the fact that the Rev. Mr. -McTavish was to call for a small parcel of stationery about six -o’clock. At the same time she remembered her duty to her employer. -“But we have other inkpots in profusion,” she declared. - -The limit of his endurance was reached. “Oh,” he stammered, “I wish ye -wudna speak to me like that.” - -“Like what?” - -“That fancy way――that genteel English.” - -The words might have angered her, but not the voice. She drew a quick -breath and said: - -“Are ye a frien’ or a customer?” - -“Ye――ye ken fine what I want to be,” he answered, sadly. - -Now she was sure that she liked him. - -“Well,” she said, slowly, “suppose ye buy a ha’penny penholder――jist -for the sake o’ appearances――an’ then”――quickly――“we’ll drop -business.” And she refused to sell him a penny one, and, indeed, -anything else in the shop that afternoon. - -It must be recorded, however, that an hour or so later she induced the -Rev. Mr. McTavish to buy the ugly inkpot. - -“It wasna easy,” she confessed afterwards to M. Tod, “an’ I doobt he -jist bought it to please me; but it’s awa’ at last, an’ ye’ll never -see it again――unless, maybe, at a jumble sale. He was real nice aboot -it, an’ gaed awa’ smilin’.” - -“I hope ye didna deceive the man,” said M. Tod, trying not to look -gratified. - -“I told him the solemn truth. I told him it was on ma conscience to -sell the inkpot afore anither day had dawned. It’s no’ every day it -pays ye to tell the truth, is it?” The last sentence was happily -inaudible to the old woman. - -“But, lassie, I never intended ye to feel ye had ta’en a vow to sell -the inkpot. I wud be unco vexed to think――――” - -Christina gave her employer’s shoulder a little kindly, reassuring -pat. “Na, na; ye needna fash yersel’ aboot that,” she said. Then, -moving away: “As a matter o’ fac’, I had compromised myself regardin’ -the inkpot in――in anither direction.” - -Which was all Greek to M. Tod. - - - - -CHAPTER NINE - - -For a fortnight it ran smoothly enough. There were, to be sure, -occasional ripples; little doubts, little fears, little jealousies; -but they passed as swiftly as they appeared. - -Macgregor, having no overtime those weeks, contrived to visit the shop -nightly, excepting Tuesdays and Thursdays, Christina’s class nights. -He paid his footing, so to speak, with the purchase of a ha’penny -evening paper――which he could not well take home since his father was -in the habit of making a similar purchase on the way from work. M. Tod -was rarely in evidence; the evenings found her tired, and unless -several customers demanded attention at once (a rare event) she -remained in the living-room, browsing on novelettes selected for her -by her assistant. She was given to protesting she had never done such -a thing prior to Christina’s advent, to which Christina was wont to -reply that, while she herself was long since “fed up” with such -literature, it was high time M. Tod should know something about it. -Only once did the old woman intrude on the young people and prevent -intimate converse; but even then Macgregor did not depart unhappy, for -Christina’s farewell smile was reassuring in its whimsicality, and in -young love of all things seeing is believing. - -It must not be supposed, all the same, that she gave him much direct -encouragement; her lapses from absolute discretion were brief as they -were rare. But the affections of the youthful male have a wonderful -way of subsisting on crumbs which hope magnifies into loaves. -Nevertheless, her kindliness was a definite thing, and under its -influence the boy lost some of his shyness and gained a little -confidence in himself. He had already taken a leap over one barrier of -formality: he had called her “Christina” to her face, and neither her -face nor her lips had reproved him; he had asked her to call him -“Macgreegor”――or “Mac” if she preferred it, and she had promised to -“see about it.” - -On this November Saturday afternoon he was on his way to make the -tremendous request that she should allow him to walk home with her -when her day’s work was over. He was far from sure of himself. In the -reign of Jessie Mary――what an old story now!――he would not have openly -craved permission, but would have hung about on the chance of meeting -her alone and in pleasant humour. But he could not act so with -Christina. Instinct as well as inclination prevented him. Moreover, he -had been witness, on a certain evening when he had lingered near the -shop――just to see her with her hat on――-of the fate that befell a -young man (a regular customer, too, Christina told him afterwards) who -dared to proffer his escort off-hand. Christina had simply halted, -turned and pointed, as one might point for a dog’s guidance, and after -a long moment the young man had gone in the direction opposite to that -in which he had intended. To Macgregor the little scene had been -gratifying yet disturbing. The memory of it chilled his courage now. -But he was not the boy to relinquish a desire simply because he was -afraid. - -He broke his journey at a sweet-shop, and rather surprised himself by -spending sixpence, although he had been planning to do so for the past -week. He had not yet given Christina anything; he wanted badly to give -her something; and having bought it, he wondered whether she would -take it. He could not hope that the gift would affect the answer to -his tremendous request. - -Coming out of the sweet-shop he caught sight of the back of Willie -Thomson, whom he had not seen for two weeks. Involuntarily he gave the -boyish whistle, not so long ago the summons that would have called the -one to the other with express speed. Now it had the reverse effect, -for Willie started, half turned, and then walked quickly up a -convenient side-street. The flight was obvious, and for a moment -Macgregor was hurt and angry. Then with sudden sympathy he grinned, -thinking, “He’ll be after Jessie Mary, an’ doesna want me.” He was -becoming quite grateful to Willie, for although he had encountered -Jessie Mary several times of late, she had not reminded him of the -approaching dance, and he gave Willie credit for that. - -A few minutes later Macgregor stood at the counter that had become a -veritable altar. Not many of us manage to greet the girls of our -dreams precisely as we would or exactly as we have rehearsed the -operation, and Macgregor’s nerves at the last moment played him a -trick. - -In a cocky fashion, neither natural nor becoming, he wagged his head -in the direction of the living-room and flippantly enquired: “Is she -oot?” - -To which Christina, her smile of welcome passing with never a flicker, -stiffly replied: “Miss Tod is out, but may return at any moment.” - -“Aw!” he murmured, “I thought she wud maybe be takin’ her usual walk.” - -“What usual walk?” - -His hurt look said: “What have I done to deserve this, Christina?” - -And she felt as though she had struck him. “Ye shouldna tak’ things -for granted,” she said, less sharply. “I didna think ye was yin o’ the -cheeky sort.” - -“Me!” he cried in consternation. - -“Weel, maybe ye didna mean it, but ye cam’ into the shop like a dog -wi’ twa tails. But”――as with a sudden inspiration――“maybe ye’ve been -gettin’ a rise in yer wages. If that’s the case, I’ll apologise.” - -He shook his head. “I dinna ken what ye’re drivin’ at. I――I was jist -gled to see ye――――” - -“Oh, we’ll no’ say ony mair aboot it. Maybe I was ower smart,” she -said hastily. “Kindly forget ma observations.” She smiled -apologetically. - -“Are ye no’ gaun to shake han’s wi’ me?” he asked, still uneasy. - -“Surely!” she answered warmly. “An’ I’ve got a bit o’ news for ye, -Mac.” The name slipped out; she reddened. - -Yet her cheek was pale compared with the boy’s. “Oh!” he exclaimed -under his breath. Then with a brave attempt at carelessness he brought -from his pocket a small white package and laid it on the counter -before her. “It――it’s for you,” he said, forgetting his little speech -about wanting to give her something and hoping she would not be -offended. - -Christina was not prepared for such a happening; still, her wits did -not desert her. She liked sweets, but on no account was she going to -have her acceptance of the gift misconstrued. She glanced at -Macgregor, whose eyes did not meet hers; she glanced at the package; -she glanced once more at Macgregor, and gently uttered the solitary -word: - -“Platonic?” - -“Na,” he replied. “Jujubes.” - -Christina bit her lip. - -“D’ye no’ like them?” he asked anxiously. - -The matter had got beyond her. She put out her hand and took the gift, -saying: “Thank ye, Mac; they’re ma favourite sweeties. But――ye’re no’ -to dae it again.” - -“What kin’ o’ sweeties did ye think they was?” he asked, breaking a -short silence. - -“Oh, it’s o’ nae consequence,” she lightly replied. “D’ye no’ want to -hear ma bit o’ news?” - -“’Deed, ay, Christina.” Now more at ease, he settled himself on the -chair by the counter. - -“Weel,――ye’ll excuse me no’ samplin’ the jujubes the noo; it micht be -awkward if a customer was comin’――weel, yer Uncle Purdie was visitin’ -ma uncle last night, an’ what d’ye think I did?” - -“What?” - -“I asked him for a job!” - -“A job!” exclaimed Macgregor. “In――in yin o’ his shops?” - -“Na; in his chief office.” - -“My! ye’ve a neck――I mean, ye’re no’ afraid.” - -“Ye dinna get muckle in this world wi’oot askin’ for it.” - -“What did he say?” the boy enquired, after a pause. - -“He said the job was mine as sune as I was ready to tak’ it. Ye see, I -tell’t him I didna want to start till I had ma shorthand an’ -typewritin’ perfec’. That’ll tak’ me a few months yet.” - -“I didna ken ye could typewrite.” - -“Oh, I’ve been workin’ at it for near a year, but I can only get -practisin’ afore breakfast an’ whiles in the evenin’. Still, I think -I’ll be ready for the office aboot the spring, if no’ earlier.” - -Macgregor regarded her with sorrow mingled with admiration. “But what -way dae ye want to leave here?” he cried, all at once realising what -the change would mean to him. - -“There’s nae prospects in a wee place like this. Once I’m in a big -place, like yer uncle’s, I’ll get chances. I want to be yer uncle’s -private secretary――――” - -“Ye’re ower young.” - -“I didna say in six months.” Her voice changed. “Are ye no’ pleased, -Mac?” - -“Hoo can I be pleased when ye’re leavin’ here? Can ye no’ stop? Ye’re -fine where ye are. An’ what’ll Miss Tod dae wantin’ ye?” - -“I’ll get uncle to find her another girl――a pretty girl, so that ye’ll -come here for yer stationery, eh?” - -“If ye leave, I’ll never come here again. Could ye no’ get a job -behind the counter in yin of ma uncle’s shops?”――clutching at a straw. - -“I’ll gang furder in the office. If I was a man I daresay I wud try -the shop. If I was you, Mac, I wud try it.” - -“I couldna sell folk things.” - -“In a big business like yer uncle’s there’s plenty work besides -sellin’. But I suppose ye’ll stick to the pentin’.” - -“Ay,” he said shortly. - -“Weel, I suppose it’s nane o’ ma business,” she said good-humouredly. -“But, bein’ a frien’, I thought ye wud ha’e been pleased to hear ma -news.” - -Ere he could reply a woman came in to purchase note-paper. Possibly -Christina’s service was a trifle less “finished” than usual; and she -made no attempt to sell anything that was not wanted. Macgregor had a -few minutes for reflection, and when the customer had gone he said, a -shade more hopefully: - -“Ye’ll no’ be kep’ as late at the office as here. Ye’ll ha’e yer -evenin’s free, Christina.” - -“I’ll ha’e mair time for classes. I’m keen on learnin’ French an’ -German. I ken a bit o’ French already; a frien’ o’ ma uncle’s, a -Frenchman, has been gi’ein’ me lessons in conversation every Sunday -night for a while back. It’ll be useful if I become a secretary.” - -“Strikes me,” said Macgregor, gloomily, “ye’ve never ony time for -fun.” - -“Fun?” - -“For walkin’ aboot an’――an’ that.” - -“Oh, ye mean oot there.” She swung her hand in the direction of the -street. “I walk here in the mornin’――near a mile――an’ hame at night; -an’ I’ve two hours free in the middle o’ the day――uncle bargained for -that when he let me come to Miss Tod. As for loafin’ aboot on the -street, I had plenty o’ the street when I was young, afore ma aunt -took me to bide wi’ her at Kilmabeg. The street was aboot the only -place I had then, an’ I suppose I wud be there yet if ma aunt hadna -saved me. D’ye ken, Mac,” she went on almost passionately, “it’s no’ -five years since I wanted a decent pair o’ shoes an’ a guid square -meal.... Oh, I could tell ye things――but anither time, maybe. As for -spendin’ a’ yer spare time on the street, when ye’ve ony other place -to spend it, it’s――weel, I suppose it’s a matter o’ taste; but if I -can dae onything wi’ ma spare time that’ll mak’ me independent later -on, I’m gaun to dae it. That’s flat!” Suddenly she laughed. “Are ye -afraid o’ me, Mac?” - -“No’ likely!” he replied, with rather feeble indignation. “But whiles -ye’re awfu’――queer.” - -At that she laughed again. “But I’m no’ so badly off for fun, as ye -call it, either,” she resumed presently. “Noo an’ then uncle tak’s -auntie an’ me to the theatre. Every holiday we gang to the coast. An’ -there’s always folk comin’ to the hoose――――” - -“Auld folk?” - -“Frae your age upwards. An’ next year, when I put up ma hair, I’ll be -gettin’ to dances. Can ye waltz?” - -Macgregor gave his head a dismal shake. “I――I doobt ye’re ower -high-class,” he muttered hopelessly. “Ye’ll no’ be for lookin’ at me -next year.” - -“No’ if ye wear a face like a fiddle. I like to look at cheery things. -What’s up wi’ ye?” - -“Oh, naething. I suppose ye expec’ to be terrible rich some day.” - -“That’s the idea.” - -“What’ll ye dae wi’ the money? I suppose ye dinna ken.” - -“Oh, I ken fine,” she returned, with an eager smile. “I’ll buy auntie -a lovely cottage at the coast, an’ uncle a splendid motor car, an’ -masel’ a big white steam yacht.” - -“Ye’re no’ greedy,” he remarked a little sulkily. - -“That’ll be merely for a start, of course. I’ll tak’ ye a trip roun’ -the world for the price o’ a coat o’ pent to the yacht. Are ye on? -Maybe ye’ll be a master-penter by then.” - -“I――I’ll never be onything――an’ I’m no’ carin’,” he groaned. - -“If ye lie doon in the road ye’ll no’ win far, an’ ye’re likely to get -tramped on, forbye. What’s wrang wi’ ye the day?” she asked kindly. - -“Ye――ye jist mak’ me miserable,” he blurted out, and hung his head. - -“Me!” she said innocently. “I’m sure I never meant to dae that. I’m a -hard nut, I suppose; but no’ jist as hard as I seem. Onything I can -dae to mak’ ye happy again?” - -The door opened, the bell banged, and a man came in and bought a -weekly paper. - -“Weel?” said Christina when they were alone. - -“Let me walk hame wi’ ye the nicht,” said Macgregor, who ought to have -felt grateful to the chance customer whose brief stay had permitted -him to get his wits and words together. - -“Oh!” said Christina. - -“I’ll wait for ye as long as ye like.” - -Some seconds passed ere Christina spoke. “I’m not in the habit of -being escorted――――” she began. - -“For ony sake dinna speak like that.” - -“I forgot ye wasna a customer. But, seriously, I dinna think it wud be -the thing.” - -“What way, Christina?” - -“Jist because, an’ for several other reasons besides. My! it’s gettin’ -dark. Time I was lightin’ up.” She struck a match, applied it to a -long taper, and proceeded to ignite the jets in the window and above -the counter. Then she turned to him again. - -“Mac.” - -Something in her voice roused him out of his despair. “What, -Christina?” - -“If ye walk hame wi’ me, I’ll expect ye to come up an’ see ma aunt an’ -uncle. Ye see, I made a sort o’ bargain wi’ them that I wudna ha’e ony -frien’s that they didna ken aboot.” - -Macgregor’s expression of happiness gave place to one of doubt. “Maybe -they wudna like me,” he said. - -“Aweel, that’s your risk, of course. But they’ll no’ bite ye. I leave -the shop at eight.” She glanced at her little silver watch. “Mercy! -It’s time I was puttin’ on the kettle. Miss Tod’ll be back in a jiffy. -Ye best gang, Mac.” - -“I’ll be waitin’ for ye at eight,” he said, rising. “An’ it’s awfu’ -guid o’ ye, Christina, though I wish ye hadna made that bargain――――” - -“Weel, I like to be as honest as I can――ootside o’ business. If ye -dinna turn up, I’ll forgive ye. Noo――――” - -“Oh, I’ll turn up. It wud tak’ mair nor your aunt an’ uncle――――” - -“Tits, man!” she cried impatiently, “I’ll be late wi’ her tea. Adieu -for the present.” She waved her hand and fled to the living-room. - -Macgregor went home happy in a subdued fashion. He found a letter -awaiting him. It was from Grandfather Purdie; it reminded him that his -seventeenth birthday was on the coming Monday, contained a few kindly -words of advice, and enclosed a postal order for ten shillings. -Hitherto the old man’s gift had been a half-crown, which had seemed a -large sum to the boy. But ten shillings!――it would be hard to tell -whether Macgregor’s feeling of manliness or of gratitude was the -greater. - -Mrs. Robinson was not a little disturbed when her son failed to hand -over the money to her to take care of for him, as had been the custom -in the past, and her husband had some difficulty in persuading her to -“let the laddie be in the meantime.” - -Macgregor had gone to his room to make the most elaborate toilet -possible. - -“You trust him, an’ he’ll trust you,” said John. “Dinna be aye -treatin’ him like a wean.” - -“It’s no’ a case o’ no’ trustin’ him,” she returned a little sharply. -“Better treat him like a wean than let him think he’s a man afore his -time.” - -“It’s no’ his money in the bank that tells what a chap’s made o’, -Lizzie. Let us wait an’ see what he does wi’ it. Mind ye, it’s his to -dae what he likes wi’. Wait, till the morn, an’ then I’ll back ye up -in gettin’ him to put a guid part o’ it, onyway, in the bank. No’ that -I think ony backin’ up’ll be necessary. If he doesna want to put it in -the bank, he’ll dae it to please us. I’ll guarantee that, wife.” - -“If I had your heart an’ you had ma heid,” she said with a faint -smile, “I daresay we wud baith be near perfec’, John. Aweel, I’m no’ -gaun to bother the laddie noo. But”――seriously――“he’s been oot an -awfu’ lot at nicht the last week or twa.” - -“Courtin’,” said John, laughing. - -“Havers!” she retorted. “He’s no’ the sort.” - -“Neither was I,” said John, “an’ look at me noo!” - -And there they let the subject drop. - - * * * * * - -At seven o’clock Macgregor left the house. At the nearest post-office -he had his order converted into coin. In one of his pockets he placed -a couple of shillings――for Jeannie and Jimsie. He had no definite -plans regarding the balance, but he hoped his mother would not ask for -it. Somehow its possession rendered the prospect of his meeting with -the Baldwins a thought less fearsome. He would tell Christina of his -grandfather’s gift, and later on, perhaps, he would buy――he knew not -what. All at once he wished he had a _great_ deal of money――wished he -were clever――wished he could talk like Christina, even in the manner -he hated――wished vague but beautiful things. The secret aspirations of -lad’s love must surely make the angels smile――very tenderly. - -He reached the trysting place with a quick heart, a moist brow, and -five and twenty minutes to spare. - - - - -CHAPTER TEN - - -From five to seven o’clock on Saturdays M. Tod and her assistant did a -fairly brisk trade in newspapers; thereafter, as Christina often -thought, but refrained from saying, it was scarcely worth while -keeping the shop open: A stray customer or two was all that might be -expected during the last hour, and Christina was wont to occupy -herself and it by tidying up for Sunday, while M. Tod from the -sitting-room bleated her conviction, based on nothing but a fair -imagination and a bad memory, that the Saturday night business was not -what it had been twenty years ago. The old woman invariably got -depressed at the end of the week; she had come to grudge the girl’s -absence even for a day. - -Christina was counting up some unsold periodicals, chattering -cheerfully the while on the ethics of modern light literature. The -door opened with a suddenness that suggested a pounce, and a young -woman, whom Christina could not recollect having seen before, started -visibly at the bang of the bell, recovered herself, and closed the -door carefully. It was Christina’s habit to sum up roughly the more -patent characteristics of new customers almost before they reached the -counter. In the present case her estimate was as follows: “Handsome -for the money; conceited, but not proud.” - -“Good-evening,” she said politely. - -“Evenin’,” replied the other, her dark eyes making a swift survey of -the shop. She threw open her jacket, already unbuttoned, disclosing a -fresh white shirt, a scarlet bow and a silver belt. Touching the belt, -she said: “I think this was got in your shop.” - -Christina bent forward a little way. “Perhaps,” she said pleasantly. -“I couldn’t say for certain. We’ve sold several of these belts, but of -course we haven’t the monopoly.” - -It may have been that the young woman fancied she was being chaffed. -Other customers less unfamiliar with Christina had fancied the same -thing. At all events her tone sharpened. - -“But I happen to ken it was got here.” - -“Then it _was_ got here,” said Christina equably. “Do you wish to buy -another the same? I’m sorry we’re out of them at present, but we could -procure one for you within――――” - -“No, thanks. An’ I didna buy this one, either. It was bought by a -young gentleman friend of mines.” - -“Oh, indeed!” Christina murmured sympathetically. Then her eyes -narrowed slightly. - -“I came to see if you could change it,” the young woman proceeded. -“It’s miles too wide. Ye can see that for yersel’.” - -“They are worn that way at present,” said Christina, with something of -an effort. - -“Maybe. But I prefer it tight-fittin’. Of course I admit I’ve an extra -sma’ waist.” - -“Yes――smaller than they are worn at present.” - -“I beg your pardon!” - -“Granted,” said Christina absently. She was trying to think of more -than one male customer to whom she had sold a belt. But there had been -only one. - -The dark eyes of the young woman glimmered with malignant relish. - -“As I was sayin’,” she said, “I prefer it tight-fittin’. I’ve a dance -on next week, an’ as it is the belt is unsuitable, an’ the young man -expec’s me to wear it. Of course I couldna tell him that it didna fit -me. So I thought I would jist ask ye to change it wi’oot lettin’ on to -him.” She gave a self-conscious giggle. - -“I see,” said Christina, dully. “But I’m afraid there’s only the one -size in those belts, and, besides, we can’t change goods that have -been worn for a month.” - -“Oh, so ye mind when ye sold it!” said the other maliciously. “Ye’ve a -fine memory, Miss! But though I’ve had it for a month――it was part o’ -his birthday present, ye ken――I’ve scarcely worn it――only once or -twice, to please him.” - -There was a short silence ere Christina spoke. “If you are bent on -getting the belt made tight-fitting, a jeweller would do it for you, -but it would cost as much as the belt is worth,” she said coldly. -“It’s a very cheap imitation, you know,” she added, for the first time -in her business career decrying her own wares. - -It was certainly a nasty one, but the young woman almost succeeded in -appearing to ignore it. - -“So ye canna change it――even to please ma young man?” she said -mockingly. - -“No,” Christina replied, keeping her face to the foe, but with -difficulty. - -Said the foe: “That’s a pity, but I daresay I’ll get over it.” She -moved to the door and opened it. She smiled, showing her teeth. -(Christina was glad to see they were not quite perfect.) “A sma’ waist -like mines is whiles a misfortune,” she remarked, with affected -self-commiseration. - -Christina set her lips, but the retort _would_ come. “Ay,” she said -viciously; “still, I suppose you couldn’t grow tall any other way.” - -But the young woman only laughed――she could afford to laugh, having -done that which she had come to do――and departed to report the result -of her mission to the youth known as Willie Thomson. - -“Wha was that, dearie?” M. Tod called from the living-room. - -Christina started from an unlovely reverie. “Merely a female,” she -answered bitterly, and resumed counting the periodicals in a listless -fashion. - -The poison bit deep. The cheek of him to suggest walking home with -_her_ when he was going to a dance with that tight-laced girl next -week! No doubt he admired her skimpy waist. He was welcome to it and -her――and her bad teeth. And yet he had seemed a nice chap. She had -liked him for his shyness, if for nothing else. But the shy kind were -always the worst. He had very likely been taking advantage of his -shyness. Well, she was glad she had found him out before he could walk -home with her. And possibly because she was glad, but probably because -she was quite young at heart, tears came to her eyes.... - -When ten minutes had passed, M. Tod, missing the cheerful chatter, -toddled into the shop. - -“What’s wrang, dearie? Preserve us! Ha’e ye been cryin’?” - -“Cryin’!” exclaimed Christina with contempt. “But I think I’m in for a -shockin’ cauld in ma heid, so ye best keep awa’ frae me in case ye get -the infection. A cauld’s a serious thing at your time o’ life.” And -she got the feebly protesting old woman back to the fireside, and left -her there. - - * * * * * - -At eight o’clock Macgregor saw the window lights go out and the shop -lights grow dim. A minute later he heard an exchange of good-nights -and the closing and bolting of a door. Then Christina appeared, her -head a little higher even than usual. - -He went forward eagerly. He held out his hand and――it received his -gift of the afternoon unopened. - -“I’ve changed my mind. I’ll bid you good-night――and good-bye,” said -Christina, and walked on. - -Presently he overtook her. - -“Christina, what’s up?” - -“Kindly do not address me any more.” - -“Any more?――――Never?――――What way?――――” - -She was gone. - -He dashed the little package into the gutter and strode off in the -opposite direction, his face white, his lip quivering. - -If Macgregor seemed in the past to have needed a thorough rousing, he -had it now. For an hour he tramped the streets, his heart hot within -him, the burden of his thoughts――“She thinks I’m no’ guid enough.” - -And the end of the tramp found him at the door of the home of Jessie -Mary. For a wonder, on a Saturday night at that hour, she was in. She -opened the door herself. - -At the sight of the boy something like fear fell upon her. For what -had he come thus boldly? - -He did not keep her in suspense. “Will ye gang wi’ me to that dance ye -was talkin’ aboot?” he asked abruptly, adding, “I’ve got the money for -the tickets.” - -A curse, a blow even, would have surprised her less. - -“Will ye gang, Jessie?” he said impatiently. - -For the life of her she could not answer at once. - -Said he: “If it’s Wullie, ye’re thinkin’ o’, I’ll square him.” - -“Wullie!” she exclaimed, a cruel contempt in the word. - -“Weel, if naebody else is takin’ ye, will ye gang wi’ me?” - -“Dae――dae ye want me, Macgreegor?” - -“I’m askin’ ye.” - -She glanced at him furtively, but he was not looking at her; his hands -were in his pockets, his mouth was shaped to emit a tuneless whistle. -She tried to laugh, but made only a throaty sound. It seemed as if a -stranger stood before her, one of whom she knew nothing save his name. -And yet she liked that stranger and wanted much to go to the dance -with him. - -The whistling ceased. - -“Are ye gaun wi’ somebody else?” he demanded, lifting his face for a -moment. - -It was not difficult to guess that something acute had happened to him -very recently. Jessie Mary suddenly experienced a guilty pang. Yet why -Macgregor should have come back to her now was beyond her -comprehension. Yon yellow-haired girl in the shop could not have told -him anything――that was certain. And though she had not really wanted -him back, now that he had come she was fain to hold him once more. -Such thoughts made confusion in her mind, out of which two distinct, -ideas at last emerged: she did not care if she had hurt the -yellow-haired girl; she could not go to the dance on Macgregor’s -money. - -So gently, sadly, she told her lie; “Ay, there’s somebody else, -Macgreegor.” Which suggests that no waist is too small to contain an -appreciable amount of heart and conscience. - -A brief pause, and Macgregor said drearily: - -“Aweel, it doesna matter. I’ll awa’ hame.” And went languidly down the -stairs. - -“It doesna matter.” The words haunted Jessie Mary that night, and it -was days before she got wholly rid of the uncomfortable feeling that -Macgregor had not really wanted her to go to the dance, and that he -had, in fact, been “codding” her. - -Whereas, poor lad, he had only been “codding” himself, or, at least, -trying to do so. By the time he reached the bottom step he had -forgotten Jessie Mary. - - * * * * * - -Once more he tramped the streets. - -At home Lizzie was showing her anxiety, and John was concealing his. - -When, at long last, he entered the kitchen, he did not appear to hear -his mother’s “Whaur ha’e ye been, laddie?” or his father’s “Ye’re -late, ma son.” Their looks of concern at his tired face and muddy -boots passed unobserved. - -Having unlaced his boots and rid his feet of them more quietly than -usual, he got up and went to the table at which his mother was -sitting. - -He took all the money――all――from his pockets and laid it before her. - -“There’s a shillin’ each for Jeannie an’ Jimsie. I’m no’ needin’ the -rest. I’m wearied,” he said, and went straightway to his own room. - -John got up and joined his wife at the table. “Did I no’ tell ye,” he -cried, triumphantly, “that Macgreegor wud dae the richt thing?” - -Lizzie stared at the little heap of silver and bronze. - -“John,” she whispered at last, and there was a curious distressed note -in her voice, “John, d’ye no’ see?――he’s gi’ed me ower much!” - - - - -CHAPTER ELEVEN - - -As a rule tonics are bitter, and their effects very gradual, often so -gradual as to be hardly noticeable until one’s strength is put to some -test. While it would be unfair to deny the existence of “backbone” in -Macgregor, it is but just to grant that the “backbone” required -stiffening. And it is no discredit to Macgregor that the tincture of -Christina’s hardier spirit which, along with her (to him) abundant -sweetness, he had been absorbing during these past weeks, was the very -tonic he needed, the tonic without which he could not have acted as he -did on the Monday night following his dismissal. - -Of this action one may say, at first thought, that it was simply the -outcome of an outraged pride. Yet Macgregor’s pride was at best a -drowsy thing until a girl stabbed it. It forced him to Jessie Mary’s -door, but there failed him. Throughout the miserable Sunday it lay -inert, with only an occasional spasm. And though he went with it to -the encounter on Monday, he carried it as a burden. His real -supporters were Love and Determination, and the latter was a new -comrade, welcome, but not altogether of his own inspiring. - - * * * * * - -He did not go to the shop, for he had neither money nor the petty -courage necessary to ask it of his parents. On the pavement, a little -way from the door, he waited in a slow drizzle of rain. He had no -doubts as to what he was going to do and say. The idea had been with -him all day, from early in the morning, and it _had_ to be carried -out. Perhaps his nerves were a little too steady to be described as -normal. - -When eight o’clock struck on a neighbouring tower, he did not start or -stir. But across the street, peering round the edge of a close-mouth, -another boy jerked his head at the sound. Willie Thomson was -exceedingly curious to know whether Saturday night had seen the end of -the matter. - -Christina, for no reason that she could have given, was late in -leaving the shop; it was twenty minutes past the hour when she -appeared. - -She approached quickly, but he was ready for her. - -“No!” she exclaimed at the sight of him. - -He stepped right in front of her. She was compelled to halt, and she -had nothing to say. - -He faced her fairly, and said――neither hotly nor coldly, but with a -slight throb in his voice: - -“I’ll be guid enough yet.” With a little nod as if to emphasise his -words, and without taking his eyes from her face, he stood aside and -let her go. - -Erect, he followed her with his eyes until the darkness and traffic of -the pavement hid her. Then he seemed to relax, his shoulders drooped -slightly, and with eyes grown wistful he moved slowly down the street -towards home. Arrived there he shut himself up with an old school -dictionary. - -Dull work, but a beginning.... - -“Guid enough yet.” Christina had not gone far when through all her -resentment the full meaning of the words forced itself upon her. “Oh,” -she told herself crossly, “I never meant him to take it that way.” A -little later she told herself the same thing, but merely impatiently. -And still later, lying in the dark, she repeated it with a sob. - -As for the watcher, Willie Thomson, he set out without undue haste to -inform Jessie Mary that once more Macgregor had been left standing -alone on the pavement. Somehow Willie was not particularly pleased -with himself this evening. Ere his lagging feet had borne him half way -to the appointed place he was feeling sorry for Macgregor. All at once -he decided to spy no more. It would be rather awkward just at present -to intimate such a decision to Jessie Mary, but he could “cod” her, he -thought, without much difficulty, by inventing reports in the future. -Cheered by his virtuous resolutions, he quickened his pace. - -Jessie Mary received him in the close leading to her abode. She was in -an extraordinarily bad temper, and cut short his report almost at the -outset by demanding to know when he intended repaying the shilling he -had borrowed a fortnight previously. - -“Next week,” mumbled Willie, with that sad lack of originality -exhibited by nearly all harassed borrowers. - -Whereupon Jessie Mary, who was almost a head the taller, seized him by -one ear and soundly cuffed the other until with a yelp he broke loose -and fled into the night, never to know that he had been punished for -that unfortunate remark of Macgregor’s――“it doesna matter.” Yet let us -not scoff at Jessie Mary’s sense of justice. The possessors of greater -minds than hers, having stumbled against a chair, have risen in their -wrath and kicked the sofa――which is not at all to say that the sofa’s -past has been more blameless than the chair’s. Life has a way of -settling our accounts without much respect for our book-keeping. - -Jessie Mary felt none the better of her outbreak. She went to bed -wishing angrily that she had taken Macgregor at his word. The -prospects of obtaining an escort to the dance were now exceedingly -remote, for only that afternoon she had learned that the bandy-legged -young man in the warehouse whom she had deemed “safe at a pinch,” and -who was the owner of a dress suit with a white vest, had invited -another girl and was actually going to give her flowers to wear. - -Willie went to bed, too, earlier than usual, and lay awake wondering, -among other things, whether his aching ear entitled him to a little -further credit in the matter of his debt to Jessie Mary――not that any -length of credit would have made payment seem possible. For Willie was -up to the neck in debt, owing the appalling sum of five shillings and -ninepence to an old woman who sold newspapers, paraffin oil and cheap -cigarettes, and who was already threatening to go to his aunt for her -money――a proceeding which would certainly result in much misery for -Willie. He was “out of a job” again; but it isn’t easy to get work, -more especially when one prefers to do nothing. To some extent -Macgregor was to blame for his having got into debt with the -tobacconist, for if Macgregor had not stopped smoking, Willie would -not have needed to buy nearly so many cigarettes. Nevertheless, -Willie’s thoughts did not dwell long or bitterly on that point. Rather -did they dwell on Macgregor himself. And after a while Willie drew up -his legs and pulled the insufficient bedclothes over his head and lay -very still. This he had done since he was a small boy, when -lonesomeness got the better of him, when he wished he had a father and -mother like Macgregor’s. - -And, as has been hinted, neither was Christina at ease that night. - -Indeed, it were almost safe to say that of the four young people -involved in this little tragicomedy, Macgregor, yawning over his old -school dictionary, was the least unhappy. - - - - -CHAPTER TWELVE - - -On the fifth night, at the seventh page of words beginning with a “D,” -Macgregor closed the dictionary and asked himself what was the good of -it all. His face was hot, his whole being restless. He looked at his -watch――a quarter to eight. He got up and carefully placed the -dictionary under a copy of “Ivanhoe” on the chest of drawers. He would -go for a walk. - -He left the house quietly. - -In the kitchen Lizzie, pausing in her knitting, said to John: “That’s -Macgreegor awa’ oot.” - -“It’ll dae him nae harm,” said John. “He’s becomin’ a great reader, -Lizzie.” - -“I dinna see why he canna read ben here. It’s cauld in his room. -What’s he readin’?” - -“The book he got frae his Uncle Purdie three year back.” - -“Weel, I’m sure I’m gled if he’s takin’ an interest in it at last.” - -“Oh, ‘Ivanhoe’ ’s no’ a bad story,” remarked John. “Whiles it’s fair -excitin’.” - -Said Jimsie from the hearthrug: “He doesna seem to enjoy it much, -Paw.” - -“Weel, it’s no’ a funny book.” - -“It’s time ye was in yer bed, Jimsie,” said Mrs. Robinson. “It’s ower -late for ye.” - -“Aw, the wean’s fine,” said John. - -Jeannie laid down her sewing. “Come on, Jimsie, an’ I’ll tell ye a wee -story afore ye gang to sleep.” - -“Chaps ye!” Jimsie replied, getting up. - -When the two had gone, Lizzie observed casually: “It’s the first nicht -Macgreegor’s been oot this week.” - -“Weel, ye should be pleased, wumman.” John smiled. - -A pause. - -“I wonder what made him gi’e up a’ his siller on Seturday nicht.” - -“Same here. But I wudna ask him,” said John, becoming grave. “Wud -you?” - -She shook her head, “I tried to, on Sunday, but some way I coudna. -He’s changin’.” - -“He’s growin’ up, Lizzie.” - -“I suppose ye’re richt,” she said reluctantly, and resumed her -knitting. - - * * * * * - -From the darkest spot he could find on the opposite pavement Macgregor -saw Christina come out of the shop, pass under a lamp, and disappear. -He felt sorely depressed during the return journey. The dictionary had -failed to increase either his knowledge or his self-esteem. He -wondered whether History or Geography would do any good; there were -books on these subjects in the house. He realised that he knew nothing -about anything except his trade, and even there he had to admit that -he had learned less than he might have done. And yet he had always -wanted to be a painter. - -The same night he started reading the History of England, and found it -a considerable improvement on the Dictionary. He managed to keep awake -until the arrival of Julius Cæsar. Unfortunately he had taken the book -to bed, and his mother on discovering it in the morning indiscreetly -asked him what he had been doing with it. “Naething special,” was his -reply, indistinctly uttered, and here ended his historical studies, -though for days after Lizzie left the book prominent on the chest of -drawers. - - * * * * * - -The day being Saturday, the afternoon was his own. Through the rain he -made his way furtively to a free library, but became too -self-conscious at the door, and fled. For the sum of threepence a -picture house gave him harbourage, and save when the scenes were very -exciting he spent the time in trying not to wonder what Christina -would think of him, if she thought at all. He came forth ashamed and -in nowise cheered by the entertainment. - -In the evening he went once more to watch her leave the shop. M. Tod -came to the door with her, and they stood talking for a couple of -minutes, so that he had more than a glimpse of her. And a spirit arose -in him demanding that he should attempt something to prove himself, -were it only with his hands. It was not learning, but earning, that -would make him “guid enough yet”; not what he could say, but what he -could do. There would be time enough for speaking “genteel English” -and so on after――well, after he had got up in the world. - -For a moment he felt like running after Christina and making her -hearken to his new hope, but self-consciousness prevailed and sent him -homewards. - -“Hullo!” From a close came a husky voice, apologetic, appealing. - -“Hullo, Wullie!” Macgregor stopped. He was not sorry to meet Willie; -he craved companionship just then, though he had no confidence to -give. - -“Are ye for hame?” - -“Ay.” - -“I――I’ll come wi’ ye, if ye like, Macgreegor?” - -“Come on then.” - -Willie came out, and they proceeded along the street without remark -until Macgregor enquired―――― - -“Where are ye workin’ the noo, Wullie?” - -“I’m no’ workin’. Canna get a job. Dae ye ken o’ onything?” - -“Na. What kin’ o’ job dae ye want?” - -“Onything,” said Willie, and added quickly, “An’ I’ll stick to it this -time, if I get the chance.” - -After a short pause――――“My fayther got ye a job before,” said -Macgregor. - -“I ken. But I wud stick――――” - -“Honest?” - -Willie drew his hand across his throat. - -“Weel,” said Macgregor, “I’ll tell ma fayther, an’ ye can gang an’ see -him at the works on Monday.” - -“I’ll be there. Ye’re a dacent chap, Macgreegor.” - -Neither seemed to have anything more to say to the other, but their -parting was cordial enough. - -Next day, Sunday, was wet and stormy, and there was no afternoon -stroll of father and son to the docks. John was flattered by -Macgregor’s ill-concealed disappointment――it was like old times. -Perhaps he would not have been less flattered had he known his boy’s -desire to tell him out of doors a thing that somehow could not be -uttered in the house. Macgregor spent the afternoon in studying -secretly an old price-list of Purdie’s Stores. - -The following night, while returning from the errand of previous -nights, he again encountered Willie. - -“So may fayther’s gaun to gi’e ye a job. He tell’t me it was fixed.” - -“Ay,” said Willie, “but he canna tak’ me on for a fortnicht.” - -“Weel, that’s no lang to wait.” - -For a few seconds Willie was mute; then he blurted out――“I’m done -for!” - -“Done for!” exclaimed Macgregor, startled by the despair in the -other’s voice. “What’s wrang, Wullie?” - -“I’m in a mess. But it’s nae use tellin’ ye. Ye canna dae onything.” - -“Is’t horses?” Macgregor asked presently. - -“Naw, it’s no’ horses!” Willie indignantly replied. - -How virtuous we feel when accused of the one sin we have not -committed! - -The next moment he clutched Macgregor’s arm. “Come in here, an’ I’ll -tell ye.” He drew his companion into a close. “I――I couldna tell -onybody else.” - -From the somewhat incoherent recital which followed Macgregor finally -gathered that the old woman to whom Willie owed money had presented -her ultimatum. If Willie failed to pay up that night she would -assuredly not fail to apply to his aunt first thing in the morning. - -“Never heed, Wullie,” said Macgregor, taking his friend’s arm, and -leading him homewards. “Yer aunt’ll no’ kill ye.” - -“I wish to――――she wud!” muttered Willie with a vehemence that shocked -his friend. “She’s aye been ill to live wi’, but it’ll be a sight -harder noo.” - -“Wud the auld wife no’ believe ye aboot gettin’ a job in a fortnicht? -She wudna? Aweell, she’ll believe me. Come on, an’ I’ll speak to her -for ye.” - -But the “auld wife” was adamant. She had been deceived with too many -promises ere now. At last Macgregor, feeling himself beaten, -disconsolately joined Willie and set out for home. Neither spoke until -Macgregor’s abode was reached. Then Macgregor said: - -“Bide here till I come back,” and ran up the stair. He knew his father -was out, having gone back to the works to experiment with some new -machinery. He found his mother alone in the kitchen. - -“Mither,” he said with difficulty, “I wish ye wud gi’e me five -shillin’s o’ ma money.” - -He could not have startled her more thoroughly. - -“Five shillin’s, laddie! What for?” - -“I canna tell ye the noo.” - -“But――――” - -“It’s no’ for――for fun. If ye ask me, I’ll tell ye in a secret this -day fortnicht. Please, mither.” - -She got up and laid her hands on his shoulder and turned him to the -full light of the gas. He looked at her shyly, yet without flinching. -And abruptly she kissed him, and as abruptly passed to the dresser -drawer where she kept her purse. - -Without a word she put the money in his hand. Without a word he took -it, nodded gravely, and went out. In one way Lizzie had done more for -her boy in these three minutes than she had done in the last three -years. - -Macgregor had a sixpence in his pocket, and he added it to the larger -coins. - -“She can wait for her thruppence,” he said, giving the money to the -astounded Willie. “Awa’ an’ pay her. I’ll maybe see ye the morn’s -nicht. So long!” He walked off in the direction opposite to that which -Willie ought to take. - -But Willie ran after him; he was pretty nearly crying. “Macgreegor,” -he stammered, “I’ll pay ye back when I get ma first wages. An’ I’ll -no’ forget――oh, I’ll never forget. An’ I’ll dae ye a guid turn yet!” - -“Ye best hurry in case she shuts her shop,” said Macgregor, and so got -rid of him. - -While it is disappointing to record that Willie has thus far never -managed to repay Macgregor in hard cash, though he has somehow -succeeded in retaining the employment found for him by John, it is -comforting to know that his promise to do Macgregor a good turn was -more than just an emotional utterance. When, on the following -Wednesday and Friday nights, he stealthily tracked Macgregor to the -now familiar watching place, his motives were no longer curious or -selfish, but benevolent in the extreme. Not that he could bring -himself to sympathise with Macgregor in the latter’s devotion to a -mere girl, for, as a matter of fact, he regarded his friend’s -behaviour as “awfu’ stupid”; but if Macgregor was really “saft” on the -girl, it behoved him, Willie, to do what he could to put an end to the -existing misunderstanding. - -On the Friday night he came regretfully to the conclusion that the -“saftness” was incurable, and he accordingly determined to act on the -following afternoon. By this time his knowledge of the movements of M. -Tod and her assistant was practically as complete as Macgregor’s, so -that he had no hesitation in choosing the hour for action. He had -little fear of Macgregor’s coming near the shop in daylight. - -So, having witnessed the exit of M. Tod, he crossed the street, and -examined the contents of the window, as he had seen Macgregor do so -often. He was not in the least nervous. The fact that he was without -money did not perturb him: it would be the simplest thing in the world -to introduce himself and his business by asking for an article which -stationers’ shops did not supply. A glance at a druggist’s window had -given him the necessary suggestion. - -On entering he was seized with a most distressing cough, which racked -him while he closed the door and until he reached the counter. - -“A cold afternoon,” Christina remarked in a sympathetic tone. - -“Ay. Ha’e ye ony chest protectors?” he hoarsely enquired. - -For the fraction of a second only she hesitated. “Not exactly,” she -replied. “But I can recommend this.” From under the counter she -brought a quire of brown paper. “It’s cheaper than flannel and much -more sanitary,” she went on. “There’s nothing like it for keeping out -the cold. You’ve only got to cut out the shape that suits you.” She -separated a sheet from the quire and spread it on the counter. “Enough -there for a dozen protectors. Price one penny. I’ll cut them out for -you, if you like.” - -“The doctor said I was to get a flannel yin,” said Willie, forgetting -his hoarseness. “Ha’e ye ony nice ceegarettes the day, miss?” - -“No.” - -“Will ye ha’e ony on Monday?” - -“No.” - -“When d’ye think ye’ll ha’e some nice ceegarettes?” - -Christina’s eyes smiled. “Perhaps,” she said solemnly, “by the time -you’re big enough to smoke them. Anything else to-day?” - -“Ye’re no’ sae green,” he said, with grudging admiration. - -“No,” said she; “it’s only the reflection.” She opened the glass case -and took out an infant’s rattle. “Threepence!” - -Willie laughed. “My! ye’re a comic!” he exclaimed. - -“Children are easily amused.” - -There was a short pause. Then Willie, leaning his arms on the edge of -the counter, looked up in her face and said: - -“So you’re the girl that’s mashed on Macgreegor Robi’son.” He grinned. - -A breath of silence――a sounding smack. - -Willie sprang back, his hand to his cheek. Christina, cheeks flaming, -eyes glistening, teeth gleaming, hands clenched, drew herself up and -faced him. - -“Get oot o’ this!” she cried. “D’ye hear me! Get oot――――” - -“Ay, I hear ye,” said Willie resentfully, rubbing his cheek. “Ye’re -ower smart wi’ yer han’s. I meant for to say――――” - -“Be quiet!” - -“――you’re the girl Macgreegor’s mashed on――an’ I――――” - -Christina stamped her foot. “Clear oot, I tell ye!” - -“――I wudna be Macgreegor for a thoosan’ pounds! Keep yer hair on, -miss. I’ll gang when it suits me. Ye’ve got to hear――――” - -“I’ll no’ listen.” She put her hands to her ears. - -“Thon girl, Jessie Mary, took a rise oot o’ ye last week, an’ it was -me that put her up to it. Macgreegor gi’ed her the belt, richt enough, -but that was afore he got saft on you――――” - -“Silence! I cannot hear a word you say,” declared Christina, -recovering herself and her more formal speech, though her colour, -which had faded, now bloomed again. - -“I’ll cry it loud, if ye like, so as the folk in the street can hear. -But ye can pretend ye dinna hear,” he said ironically. “I’m no’ -heedin’ whether ye hear or no’.” - -“I wish you would go away, you impertinent thing!” - -“Macgreegor――――” he began. - -Once more she covered her ears. - -“Macgreegor,” proceeded Willie, with a rude wink, “never had ony -notion o’ takin’ Jessie Mary to the dance. She was jist coddin’ ye, -though I daursay she was kin’ o’ jealous because ye had cut her oot. -So I think ye should mak’ it up wi’ Macgreegor when ye get the chance. -He’s awfu’ saft on ye. I wudna be him for a――――” - -“Go away!” said Christina. “You’re simply wasting your breath.” - -“Dinna let on to Macgreegor that I tell’t ye,” he continued, unmoved, -“an’, if Jessie Mary tries it on again, jist you put yer finger to yer -nose at her.” - -“If you don’t go at once, I’ll――――” - -“Oh, ye canna dae onything, miss. I’ll forgi’e ye for that scud ye -gi’ed me, but I wud advise ye no’ to be so quick wi’ yer han’s in -future, or ye’ll maybe get into trouble.” He turned towards the door. -“I daursay ye ken fine that Macgreegor watches ye leavin’ the shop -every nicht――――” - -“What _are_ you talking about?” - -“Gi’e him a whistle or a wave the next time. There’s nae use in bein’ -huffy.” - -“That’s enough!” - -Willie opened the door. “An’ ye best hurry up, or ye’ll maybe loss -him. So long. I’ll no’ tell him I seen ye blushin’.” - -Christina opened her mouth, but ere she could speak, with a grin and a -wink he was gone. She collapsed upon the stool. She had never been so -angry in her life――at least, so she told herself. - - - - -CHAPTER THIRTEEN - - -John Robinson and his son sat on a pile of timber at the docks. Dusk -was falling, and the air that had been mild for the season was growing -chill. - -John replaced his watch in his pocket. “It’s comin’ on for tea-time. -Are ye ready for the road, Macgreegor?” - -“Ay,” said the boy, without stirring. - -For two hours he had been struggling to utter the words on which he -believed his future depended. - -“Weel,” said John, getting out his pipe preparatory to lighting it on -passing the gate, “we best be movin’.” - -It was now or never. Macgregor cleared his throat. - -“The pentin’ trade’s rotten,” he said in a voice not his own. - -“Eh?” said John, rather staggered by the statement which was without -relevance to any of the preceding conversation. “What’s rotten aboot -it?” - -“Everything.” - -“That’s the first I’ve heard o’ ’t. In fac’, I’m tell’t the pentin’ -trade is extra brisk the noo.” - -“That’s no’ what I meant,” Macgregor forced himself to say. “I meant -it was a rotten trade to be in.” - -John gave a good-humoured laugh. “Oh, I see! Ye dinna like the -overtime! Aweel, that’s nateral at your age, Macgreegor”――he patted -his son’s shoulder――“but when ye’re aulder, wi’ a wife an’ weans, -maybe, ye’ll be gled o’ overtime whiles, I’m thinkin’.” - -“It’s no the overtime,” said Macgregor. - -“What is’t, then? What’s wrang wi’ the trade?” The question was -lightly put. - -“There’s――there’s nae prospec’s in it for a man.” - -“Nae prospec’s! Hoots, Macgreegor! there’s as guid prospec’s in the -pentin’ as in ony ither trade. Dinna fash yer heid aboot that――no’ but -what I’m pleased to ken ye’re thinkin’ aboot yer prospec’s, ma son. -But we’ll speak aboot it on the road hame.” - -“I wish,” said Macgregor, with the greatest effort of all, “I wish I -had never gaed into it. I wish I had gaed into Uncle Purdie’s -business.” - -John sat down again. At last he said: “D’ye mean that, Macgreegor?” - -“Ay, I mean it.” - -For the first time within his memory John Robinson felt disappointed――in -a vague fashion, it is true, yet none the less unpleasantly -disappointed――in his son. - -“But ye’ve been at the pentin’ for three year,” he said a little -impatiently. - -“I ken that, fayther.” - -“An’ ye mind ye had the chance o’ gaun into yer uncle’s business when -ye left the schule?” - -“Ay.” - -“But ye wud ha’e naething but the pentin’.” - -Macgregor nodded. - -“Maybe ye mind that yer Aunt Purdie was unco offended, for it was her -notion――at least, it was her that spoke aboot it――an’ she declared ye -wud never get a second chance. D’ye no’ mind, Macgreegor?” - -“I mind aboot her bein’ offended, but I dinna mind aboot――the ither -thing,” Macgregor answered dully. - -“But _I_ mind it, for she was rale nesty to yer mither at the time. In -fac’, I dinna ken hoo yer mither stood her impiddence. An’, in a way, -it was a’ ma fau’t, for it was me that said ye was to choose the trade -that ye liked best――an’ I thocht I was daein’ the richt thing, because -I had seen lads spiled wi’ bein’ forced into trades they didna fancy. -Ay, I thocht I was daein’ the richt thing――――An’ noo ye’re tellin’ me -I did the wrang thing.” - -“Fayther, it’s me that’s to blame. I――I didna mean to vex ye.” - -“Aweel, I dinna suppose ye did,” said John sadly. “But for the life o’ -me I canna see hoo ye can hope to get into yer uncle’s business at -this time o’ day.... But we’ll be keepin’ yer mither waitin’.” - -He rose slowly and Macgregor joined him. At the gate John apparently -forgot to light his pipe. They were half way home ere he spoke. - -He put his hand round his son’s arm. “Ye’re no’ to think, Macgreegor, -that I wud stan’ in yer road when ye want to better yersel’. No’ -likely! I never was set on bein’ a wealthy man masel’, but naethin’ -wud mak’ me prooder nor to see you gang up in the world; an’ I can say -the same for yer mither. An’ I can see that ye micht gang far in yer -uncle’s business, for yer uncle was aye fond o’ ye, an’ I think ye -could manage to please him at yer work, if ye was tryin’. _But_――ye -wud need yer aunt’s favour to begin wi’, an’ that’s the bitter truth, -an’ she’s no’ the sort o’ body that forgets what she conseeders an -affront. Weel, it’ll need some thinkin’ ower. I’ll ha’e to see what -yer mither says. An’ ye best no’ expec’ onything. Stick to the pentin’ -in the meantime, an’ be vera certain afore ye quit the trade ye’re in. -That’s a’ I can say, ma son.” - -Macgregor had no words then. Never before had his father seriously -spoken at such length to him. His heart was heavy, troubled about many -things. - - * * * * * - -Eight o’clock on Monday night saw him at the accustomed spot; on -Wednesday night also he was there. If only Christina had been friends -with him he would have asked her what he ought to do. Yet the mere -glimpse of her confirmed him in his desire to change his trade. On the -Wednesday night it seemed to him that she walked away from the shop -much more slowly than usual, and the horrid thought that she might be -giving some other “man” a chance to overtake her assailed him. But at -last she was gone without that happening. - -On the way home he encountered Jessie Mary. She greeted him affably, -and he could not but stop. - -“Lovely dance on Friday. Ye should ha’e been there. Ma belt was -greatly admired,” she remarked. - -“Was it?” - -“I think I’ve seen the shop where ye bought it,” she said, watching -his face covertly. - -“It’s likely,” he replied, without emotion. - -Jessie Mary was relieved; evidently he was without knowledge of her -visit to the shop. Now that the world was going well with her again -she bore no ill-will, and was fain to avoid any. For at the eleventh -hour――or, to be precise, the night before the dance――she had -miraculously won back the allegiance of the young man with the -exquisite moustache, who served in the provision shop, and for the -present she was more than satisfied with herself. - -So she bade Macgregor good-night, a little patronisingly perhaps, and -hurried off to reward her recovered swain with the pleasant sight of -herself and an order for a finnan haddie. - -Macgregor was still in the dark as to whether his father had mentioned -to his mother the subject of that conversation at the docks. John had -not referred to it again, and the boy was beginning to wonder if his -case was hopeless. - -On the Friday night, however, just when he was about to slip from the -house, his mother followed him to the door. Very quietly she said: - -“When ye come in, Macgreegor, I want ye to tell me if ye’re still set -on leavin’ the pentin’. Dinna tell me noo. Tak’ yer walk, an’ think it -ower, seriouslike. But dinna be late, laddie.” - -She went back to the kitchen, leaving him to shut the door. - -It was not much after seven o’clock, but he went straightway in the -direction of M. Tod’s shop. For the first time in what seemed an age, -he found himself at the familiar, glittering window. And lo! the -glazed panel at the back was open a few inches. Quickly he retreated -to the edge of the pavement, and stood there altogether undecided. But -desire drew him, and gradually he approached the window again. - -Christina was sitting under the lamp, at the desk, her pretty profile -bent over her writing, her fair plait falling over the shoulder of her -scarlet shirt. She was engaged in pencilling queer little marks on -paper, and doing so very rapidly. Macgregor understood that she was -practising shorthand. No doubt she would be his uncle’s private -secretary some day, while he―――― - -All at once it came to him that no one in the world could answer the -great question but Christina. If the thing didn’t matter to Christina, -it didn’t matter to him; it was for her sake that he would strive to -be “guid enough yet,” not for the sake of being “guid enough” in -itself. Besides, she had put the idea into his head. Surely she would -not refuse to speak to him on that one subject. - -Now all this was hardly in accordance with the brave and independent -plan which Macgregor had set out to follow――to wit, that he would not -attempt to speak to Christina until he could announce that he was a -member of his uncle’s staff. Yes, love is the great maker of -plans――also, the great breaker. - -Coward or not, it took courage to enter the shop. - -Christina looked up, her colour deepening slightly. - -“Hullo,” she said coolly, though not coldly. - -It was not a snub anyway, and Macgregor walked up to the counter. He -came to the point at once. - -“Wud ye advise me to try an’ get a job frae ma uncle?” he said, -distinctly enough. - -“Me?” The syllable was fraught with intense astonishment. - -“Ye advised me afore to try it,” he said, fairly steadily. - -“Did I?”――carelessly. - -It was too much for him. “Oh, Christina!” he whispered reproachfully. - -“Well, I’m sure it’s none of my business. I thought you preferred -being a painter.” - -The pity was that Christina should have just then remembered the -existence of such a person as Jessie Mary, also the fact of her own -slow walk from the shop the previous night. Yet she had forgotten both -when she opened the panel at the back of the window a few inches. And -perhaps she was annoyed with herself, knowing that she was not -behaving quite fairly. - -He let her remark concerning his preference for the painting pass, and -put a very direct question. - -“What made ye change yer mind aboot me that night?” - -“What night?” she asked flippantly, and told herself it was the -silliest thing she had ever uttered. - -She had gone too far――she saw it in his face. - -“I didna think ye was as bad as that,” he said in a curiously hard -voice, and turned from the counter. - -Quick anger――quick compunction――quick fear――and then: - -“Mac!” - -He wheeled at the door. She was holding out her hand. Her smile was -frail. - -“Are ye in earnest?” he said in a low voice, but he did not wait for -her answer. - -She drew away her hand, gently. “Dinna ask me ony questions,” she -pleaded. “I――I didna really mean what I said that night, or this night -either. I think I was off my onion”――a faint laugh――“but I’m sorry I -behaved the way I did. Is that enough?” - -It was more than enough; how much more he could not say. “I’ve missed -ye terrible,” he murmured. - -Christina became her practical self. “So ye’re for tryin’ yer uncle’s -business――――” she began. - -“If he’ll gi’e me the chance.” - -“Weel, I’m sure I wish ye the best o’ luck.” - -“Then ye think I ought to try?” This with great eagerness. - -“If ye’ve made up yer mind it’s for the best,” she answered -cautiously. - -He had to be satisfied with that. “Will I let ye ken if it comes off?” - -She nodded. Then she glanced at her watch. - -“Can――can I get walkin’ hame wi’ ye, Christina?” It was out before he -knew. - -She shook her head. “Uncle said he wud come for me; he had some -business up this way. If ye wait a minute, ye’ll see him. I’ll -introduce ye. He’ll be interested seein’ ye’re a nephew o’ Mr. -Purdie.” - -“Oh, I couldna. I best hook it. But, Christina, I can come to-morrow, -eh?” - -She laughed. “I canna prevent ye. But I’ll no’ be here in the -afternoon. Uncle’s takin’ auntie an’ me to a matinée, an’ I’ll no’ be -back much afore six.” - -“Weel, I’ll meet ye at eight an’ walk hame wi’ ye.” - -“Will ye?” - -“Oh, Christina; say ’ay.’” - -“I’ll consider it.” - -And he had to be satisfied with that, too, for at this point the noisy -door opened to admit a tall, clean-shaven, pleasant-featured man of -middle-age. - -“Hullo, uncle!” cried Christina. - -Macgregor fled, but not without gaining a quick smile that made all -the difference in the world to him. - -Ten minutes later he hurried into the home kitchen. - -“Mither, I’ve decided to leave the pentin’.” The moment he said it his -heart misgave him, and the colour flew to his face. But he need not -have doubted his parents. - -“Weel, ma son,” said John soberly, “we’ll dae the best we can wi’ yer -Aunt Purdie.” - -“Jist that,” said Lizzie. - -And that was all. - - * * * * * - -An urgent piece of work had to be done the following afternoon, and he -was later than usual, for a Saturday, in getting home. He found his -mother preparing to go out, and his father looking strangely -perplexed. - -“She’s gaun to see yer Aunt Purdie,” said John in a whisper. - -Macgregor looked from one to the other, hesitated, and went over to -Lizzie. He put his hand on her arm. - -“Mither, ye’re no’ to gang. I――I’ll gang masel’.” - -Then, indeed, Lizzie Robinson perceived that her boy was in danger of -becoming a man. - - - - -CHAPTER FOURTEEN - - -To press the little black button at the door of his aunt’s handsome -west-end flat was the biggest thing Macgregor had ever done. As a -small boy he had feared his Aunt Purdie, as a schoolboy he had hated -her, as a youth he had despised her; his feelings towards her now were -not to be described, but it is certain that they included a well-nigh -overpowering sense of dread; indeed, the faint thrill of the electric -bell sent him back a pace towards the stair. His state of perspiration -gave place to one of miserable chillness. - -A supercilious servant eyed his obviously “good” clothes and bade him -wait. Nevertheless, a sting was what Macgregor needed just then; it -roused the fighting spirit. When the servant returned, and in an aloof -fashion――as though, after all, it was none of her business――suggested -that he might enter, he was able to follow her across the hall, with -its thick rugs and pleasantly warm atmosphere, to the drawing-room, -without faltering. Less than might have been expected the grandeur of -his surroundings impressed――or depressed――him, for in the course of -his trade he had grown familiar with the houses of the rich. But he -had enough to face in the picture without looking at the frame. - -Mrs. Purdie was seated at the side of the glowing hearth, apparently -absorbed in the perusal of a charitable society’s printed list of -donations. - -“Your nephew, ma’am,” the servant respectfully announced and retired. - -Mrs. Purdie rose in a manner intended to be languid. Macgregor had not -seen the large yet angular figure for two years. With his hat in his -left hand he went forward holding out his right. A stiff, brief -handshake followed. - -“Well, Macgregor, this is quite an unexpected pleasure,” she said, -unsmiling, resuming her seat. “Take a chair. It is a considerable -period since I observed you last.” Time could not wither the flowers -of language for Mrs. Purdie. “You are getting quite a big boy. How old -are you now? Are your parents in good health?” She did not wait for -answers to these inquiries. “I am sorry your uncle is not at home. His -commercial pursuits confine him to his new and commodious premises -even on Saturday afternoons.” (At that moment Mr. Purdie was smoking a -pipe in the homely parlour of Christina’s uncle, awaiting his old -friend’s return from the theatre.) “His finance is exceedingly high at -present.” With a faint smack of her lips she paused, and cast an -inquiring glance at her visitor. - -Macgregor saw the ice, so to speak, before him. The time had come. But -he did not go tapping round the edge. Gathering himself together, he -leaped blindly. - -In a few ill-chosen words he blurted out his petition. - -Then there fell an awful silence. And then――he could hardly believe -his own ears! - -There are people in the world who seem hopelessly unloveable until -you――perforce, perhaps――ask of them a purely personal favour. There -may even be people who leave the world with their fountains of -goodwill still sealed simply because no one had the courage or the -need to break the seals for them. Until to-day the so-called favours -of Aunt Purdie had been mere patronage and cash payments. - -Even now she could not help speaking patronisingly to Macgregor, but -through the patronage struggled a kindliness and sympathy of which her -relations so long used to her purse-pride, her affectations, her -absurdities, could never have imagined her capable. She made no -reference to the past; she suggested no difficulties for the present; -she cast no doubts upon the future. Her nephew, she declared, had done -wisely in coming to her; she would see to it that he got his chance. -It seemed to Macgregor that she promised him ten times all he would -have dreamed of asking. Finally she bade him stay to dinner and see -his uncle; then perceiving his anxiety to get home and possibly, also, -his dread of offending her by expressing it, she invited him for the -following Sunday evening, and sent him off with a full heart and a -light head. - - * * * * * - -He burst into the kitchen, bubbling over with his wonderful news. -During its recital John gave vent to noisy explosions of satisfaction, -Jeannie beamed happily, Jimsie stared at his transformed big brother, -and Lizzie, though listening with all her ears, began quietly to -prepare her son’s tea. - -“An’ so she treated ye weel, Macgreegor,” said John, rubbing his -hands, while the speaker paused for words. - -“She did that! An’ I’m to get dooble the wages I’m gettin’ the noo, -an’ I’ve to spend the half o’ them on night classes, for, ye see, I’m -to learn _everything_ aboot the business, an’ then――――” - -Said Lizzie gently: “Wud ye like yer egg biled or fried, dearie?” - - * * * * * - -It was nearly eight o’clock when he reached the shop, and he decided -to wait at a short distance from the window until Christina came out. -He was not going to risk interruption by the old woman or a late -customer; he would tell his wonderful tale in the privacy of the busy -pavement, under the secrecy of the noisy street. Yet he was -desperately impatient, and with every minute after the striking of the -hour a fresh doubt assailed him. - -At last the lights in the window went out, and the world grew -brighter. Presently he was moving to meet her, noting dimly that she -was wearing a bigger hat than heretofore. - -She affected surprise at the sight of him, but not at his eagerly -whispered announcement: - -“I’ve got it!” - -“Good for you,” she said kindly, and refrained from asking him, -teasingly, where he thought he was going. “It was lovely at the -theatre,” she remarked, stepping forward. - -“Dae ye no’ want to hear aboot it?” he asked, disappointed, catching -up with her. - -“Of course,” she said cheerfully. “Was yer uncle nice?” - -“It was ma aunt,” he explained somewhat reluctantly, for he feared she -might laugh. But she only nodded understandingly, and, relieved, he -plunged into details. - -“Ye’ve done fine,” she said when he had finished――for the time being, -at anyrate. “I’m afraid it’ll be you that’ll be wantin’ a private -secretary when I get that length.” - -“Dinna laugh at me,” he murmured reproachfully. - -“Dinna be ower serious, Mac,” she returned. “Ye’ll get on a’ the -better for bein’ able to tak’ a joke whiles. I’m as pleased as Punch -aboot it.” - -He was more pleased, if possible. “If it hadna been for you, -Christina, I wud never ha’e had the neck to try it,” he said warmly. - -“I believe ye!” she said quaintly. - -“But it’s the truth――an’ I’ll never forget it.” - -“A guid memory’s a gran’ thing! An’ when dae ye start wi’ yer uncle?” - -“Monday week.” - -“That’s quick work. Ye’ve beat me a’ to sticks. Dinna get swelled -heid!” - -“Christina, I wish ye wudna――――” - -“I canna help it. It’s the theatre, I suppose. Oh, I near forgot to -tell ye, yer uncle was in when we got hame frae the theatre. I hadna -time to speak to him, for I had to run back to the shop. Hadna even -time to change ma dress. I think yer uncle whiles gets tired o’ bein’ -a rich man an’ livin’ in a swell house. Maybe _you’ll_ feel that way -some day.” - -He let her run on, now and then glancing wistfully at her pretty, -animated face. The happiness, the triumph, he had anticipated were not -his. But all the more they were worth working for. - -So they came to the place where she lived. - -“Come up,” she said easily; “I tell’t auntie I wud maybe bring ye up -for supper.” - -Doubtless it was the shock of gratification as much as anything that -caused him to hang back. She had actually mentioned him to her aunt! - -“Will ma uncle be there?” he stammered at last. - -“Na, na. Ye’ll see plenty o’ _him_ later on!” - -“Maybe yer aunt winna be pleased――――” - -“Come on, Mac! Ye’re ower shy for this world!” she laughed -encouragingly. - -They went up together. - -Christina had a latch-key, and on opening the door, said: - -“Oh, they haven’t come home yet. Out for a walk, I suppose. But -they’ll be home in a minute. Come in. There’s a peg for your hat.” - -She led the way into a fire-lit room and turned up the gas. Macgregor -saw a homely, cosy parlour, something like his grandfather’s at -Rothesay, but brighter generally. A round table was trimly laid for -supper. In the window a small table supported a typewriter and a pile -of printed and manuscript books, the sight of which gave him a sort of -sinking feeling. - -“Sit down,” she said, indicating an easy-chair. “Auntie and uncle -won’t be long.” - -He took an ordinary chair, and tried hard to look at his ease. - -As she took off her hat at the mirror over the mantelpiece she -remarked: “You’ll like uncle at once, and you’ll like auntie before -long. She’s still a wee bit prim.” - -He noticed that her speech had changed with entering the house, but -somehow the “genteel English” did not seem so unnatural now. He -supposed he would have to learn to speak it, too, presently. - -“But she is the best woman in the world,” Christina continued, patting -her hair, “and she’ll be delighted about you going into your uncle’s -business. I think it was splendid of you managing your aunt so well.” - -Macgregor smiled faintly. “I doobt it was her that managed me,” he -said. “But, Christina, I’ll no’ let her be sorry――nor――nor you -either.” - -“Oh, I’m sure you’ll get on quickly,” she said, gravely, bending to -unbutton her long coat. - -“I intend to dae that,” he cried, uplifted by her words. “Gi’e me a -year or twa, an’ I’ll show ye!” - -She slipped out of the coat, and stood for a moment, faintly smiling, -in her best frock, a simple thing of pale grey lustre relieved with -white, her best black shoes, her best thread stockings, her heavy -yellow plait over her left shoulder. - -The boy caught his breath. - -“Just a minute,” she said, and left the room to put away her coat and -hat. - -Macgregor half turned in his chair, threw his arms upon the back and -pressed his brow to his wrist. - -So she found him on her return. - -“Sore head, Mac?” she asked gently, recovering from her surprise, and -going close to him. - -“Let me gang,” he whispered; “I――I’ll never be guid enough.” - -The slight sound of a key in the outer door reached the girl’s ears. -She gave her eyes an impatient little rub. - -She laid a hand on his shoulder. - -“Cheer up!” she said, almost roughly, and stooping quickly, she -touched her lips to his hair, so lightly, so tenderly, that he was not -aware. - - - - -Transcriber’s Note - -Words and phrases in italics are surrounded by underscores, _like -this_. Dialect, inconsistent hyphenation, obsolete words and -misspellings were left unchanged. - -The following were adjusted: - - … unmoved, “an’ [added apostrophe], if … - … “He’s growin’ up, Lizzie.” [added missing close quote] … - … it doesna matter.” [deleted close quote] I’ll awa’ hame.” … - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Courtin' Christina, by J. J. Bell - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK COURTIN' CHRISTINA *** - -***** This file should be named 63806-0.txt or 63806-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/6/3/8/0/63806/ - -Produced by Carol Brown, David Garcia, Larry B. 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